Back to Love
by CustysBowties
Summary: Brothers Tenth and Custy had always been at odds with one another, but when Custy's old childhood friend, Michelle, moves back into town, Tenth can't help but be interested in who she is. The gap between Custy and Tenth's brotherhood is only widened as they each find themselves falling desperately in love with the same girl, and sometimes a happy ending isn't always possible. DW AU
1. Catching Up

**/This is an AU of three Tumblr RP characters inspired by a GIFset I created. Custiel is technically the Eleventh Doctor (goodmenhavenorules), Tenth is the Tenth Doctor(the-tenth-will-see-you-now), and Michelle is a DW OC (from-human-to-timelord).**

* * *

The smell of summer was still lingering in the air, although it was fading quickly. Which was always a sad sort of happening for children. It meant the end of freedom and the beginning of education. Prison, more like. It may as well have been. And for Custiel Lungbarrow, he couldn't be more bummed about the beginning of Year 3. Despite his mother's best encouragements (not so much from his father, of course; he was far too busy cheering on his more beloved son Tenth), he just couldn't see much excitement in leaving summer behind for more uniforms, learning, and classmates that probably wouldn't even bother to say a single word to him. He supposed it was better than being teased, at the very least.

"Do ya have an extra pencil I could borrow? I kinda broke mine."

Custiel's attention was quickly caught away from the paper he'd been diligently doodling on (it was a, in his opinion, beautifully done triceratops. Aptly named Tricey) and up to the blonde headed girl siding up to him. Her brightly blue orbs eyed him expectantly, and Custiel stumbled a bit to repeat the question to himself in his head.

"Me?" asked the boy with the green eyes, lopsided hair, and quite square face. Custiel wasn't the best at conversing.

The girl giggled, "Yea, you, silly! I need a pencil. See mine?" She paused lifting up her pencil that had broken in half somehow. "Broken. Do ya not have an extra?"

Custiel simply looked to the pencil in his hand, blinking a few times. This was the only pencil he had. Yet he didn't know if he wanted to say no. Almost like he was afraid to disappoint this girl. But before he could speak again, she exclaimed, "What is _that_ supposed to be?"

She must have mistaken his moment of indecision over her question and the only pencil he had left, for him turning his attention back to his drawing. Well, for the angle she was at, leaning across from her own desk, just inches away from his left shoulder , it probably _did_ look like he was examining his drawing instead of contemplating her request.

There was a simple stutter of, "Um," before he looked back to her, the slightly shy boy explaining, "it's a triceratops."

He received a look of confusion. He tried again. "It's a dinosaur, one of my favorites."

Face lighting up, her wavy shoulder-length hair bouncing as she gave a small giggle, "But it doesn't look anythin' like a dinosaur! It looks like a… Like a blob."

Well, that was a bit of a stab to his artistic vision. He supposed she was right. He never was very artful. Not that it matter much, he still found it fun and it passed the time.

"My name's Michelle," she greeted quite cheerfully, that smile never wavering. "What's your name?"

He supposed the talk of his terrible triceratops drawing had steered the conversation away from her need to borrow a pencil. Which he could find himself totally okay with.

"Hi Michelle," he was growing a bit more confident, even trying to smile back. Someone had talked to him. "I'm Custiel."

"Custi- Casi- Ca-" she tried again and again, attempting to repeat his name. Michelle's face scrunched up into frustration, obviously a bit upset she couldn't say his name. "Cussy… What was it again?"

Custiel pursed his lips slightly before repeating, "Custiel. It's _Custiel._ It isn't that hard."

"_It is too!_ So I'm gonna call you Custy instead, okay?"

Michelle beamed at her _'accomplishment'_ of coming up with the nickname on the spot. _Custy?_ What kind of name was that? Then again, what kind of name was _Custiel_ to begin with?

"Custy?" Custiel questioned, not used to the name. It kind of sounded the same though, didn't it? He'd just never had a nickname before.

Michelle gave a curt nod, "Custy! You look more like a Custy. And if we're gonna be friends, you need an easier name. So Custy, I still need a pencil to borrow."

* * *

Wuthering Heights, suddenly interrupted by OneRepublic. Not a bad combination, thought Custiel, but one he didn't exactly expect. It was a slow day at Mile Recruitments and what else was a 24-year-old bloke with no work left to do other than perhaps read to pass the time? Well, he _could_ leave. His boss, CEO Ida Lorrie (bit of a snob, rude, and liked her coffee black. "Emphasis on that, Lungbarrow, _BLACK_.") had actually done a great service and allowed him to leave whenever he wanted because it had been such a slow day. Which was surprising in two aspects: it was a Monday and it was Ida. Both were just being generous, he supposed. But without any plans other than go back to his flat, maybe make tea, and possibly watch some telly, he found being here just in case things picked up better than going back to his flat, making tea, and watching some telly only to get called back into work anyway. So here he was, reading.

He'd had the same ringtone on his mobile for a few months now (Secrets was one of his favorite songs, after all). It was starting to get stale, but the name that appeared on the ID certainly _wasn't_ stale. To say it was a surprise who was ringing would be an understatement. Older brother, Tenth, was on the other end of the dial tone. They hadn't spoken in years and suddenly a call? Last Custiel had heard from him was when he was heading off to medical school and there were some words such as, "Dad told me to tell you I've got more of a chance to end up with the best son award. Harsh, but where I'm going, it's not uncalled for, right?"

So he was reluctant to pick it up. But he did it anyway. Besides, it'd been nearly four years. Let bygones be bygones.

"Hullo?" Custiel answered, trying to make his voice sound as neutral as possible.

The greeting was nearly muffled by the background noise of other voices, "Custiel! Hey, it's me. Tenth."

"Oh!" Was he supposed to act surprised like he didn't have caller ID? "Hey, mate, how's it going?"

There was a strange uplift in Tenth's voice then, "Brilliant! Really brilliant. Listen, I've got a bit of free time today, do you feel like dropping by the Morgan Arms? Catching up a bit?"

Well, that was certainly unexpected. Now came the dilemma of whether to actually go or not. What would catching up entail? Would it be more of the same shit that's plagued their relationship from the very day Custiel was born? Probably. But that was just a slight probably. He had to consider they were more adult now, more grown up. Much more proper without their father's influence getting in the way constantly. Even if Tenth did still talk to the old man, perhaps they'd had a falling out or something. Anyway, he was still his brother.

Tossing away Wuthering Heights into a desk drawer, not bothering to bookmark it as he'd read it several times already anyway, Custiel gave in, "Uhh, yeah, sure. Sounds great." Not really, but he was trying. "What time?"

There was a moment of pause before the answer, now unclouded from the previous background voices, "Can you make it in ten? I'm heading there now."

"Yeah, I'm a short walk away." Seems like this day was working in mysterious ways. A slow business day and his brother calling to suddenly _'catch up'_? If he were anymore superstitious, he'd be breaking out the crucifixes and holy water. "I'll see you there."

"Right. See you."

_Click._

Tenth hung up before he could even bring the mobile away from his ear. This was either going to go really well or really bad. For better or for worse, Custiel started to gather his belongings into his shoulder bag, notified Ida he was heading out, and, after reminding her of her appointments and having his meeting at the Morgan Arms pressured out of him by her nosey questions, he clocked out. Next stop, the Morgan Arms to _'catch up'_, whatever that was going to mean.

* * *

Custiel wasn't much of a drinker, barely even a social one, but here he was, nearly done with his first pint. As he stared at the golden liquid, his mind was taken into a deep place of thought. He'd been sat in this place for 30 minutes, no sight of Tenth. He was beginning to think that maybe the spiky-haired idiot had set him up and wasn't going to come at all. It wasn't completely beyond him to play pranks like this. In fact, any time he did, their dad would just laugh along with him. Oh, Tenth, the firstborn, amazing, talented, smart, and all around better accepted son. Their dad had no qualms about showing he played favorites, and Tenth was his. Tenth wanted to enroll into the science club? Daddy was there waving a flag with his face plastered on it. Custiel wanted to enroll into the book club? "Son, why can't you be more like your brother?" Then it only got worse when he was blamed for a fire that took their mother's life.

Custiel's lips pressed together before he took a long, deep swig of the remaining alcohol, swallowing it with a grimace. Why was he here again?

_Goddammit, why am I here?_

Giving up, he nearly slammed his empty glass onto the table, fed up, tired of waiting. He'd waited long enough. But just as he was reaching for his bag, his eyes were caught on a sight he thought he'd seen the last of. Even though he'd loosened his tie somewhere along his journey from the office to the pub, it suddenly felt very constricting. He thought he might choke. He thought he might fall onto the floor in a fit of asphyxiation from a stupid, cheap brown tie. He didn't even like this tie.

All he had to do was breathe. The tie wasn't choking him. But the familiar blonde approaching him wasn't allowing breathing very well. However, his expression was clearly not bothered by the lack of air, as his thin eyebrows rose, his eyes blinked several times, and his lips parted ever so slightly.

"Custiel! There ya are!" said the blonde woman with a gleeful smile. She was dressed in a short-sleeved V-neck shirt, white, which nicely complimented the darkly off-blue skirt that flowed just above her knees. It brought a comparison within his mind, a much younger, more petite girl beside her. She sometimes wore her hair up in pigtails, as young girls usually would. Her uniform was blue to match his. And she was leaning over to the shy boy in class drawing a terrible rendition of a triceratops asking for a spare pencil he didn't have.

"_Michelle_," Custiel breathed, obviously surprised by this sudden visit. His tie definitely wasn't strangling him. He was okay… Or maybe not. He must've looked absolutely stunned. Not only because, well… She was quite frankly _gorgeous,_ but because he hadn't seen her since he was 10 and she 9. She'd unfortunately moved to Texas in America. Time had certainly been good to her and he could feel a smile slowly pulling at his lips.

"Oh good, ya are Custiel," she said as she approached the small table he was still sitting at. She leaned forward very slightly, her voice playfully discreet, "Ya don't know how embarrassin' it would've been if ya were someone else."

Michelle's light laugh was like a trip into the past. Many hours spent drawing together, trying to perfect his dinosaur drawing skills (Michelle was incredibly talented in art), playing together on playgrounds, and spending most days inseparable for 3 solid years. He couldn't stop the natural laugh as he imagined her going to every table in the pub until she found him. But that brought up the question…

"Ahh, what're you doing here?" he asked, realizing too late that it could've come off wrong. "I mean, it-it's good to see you! I mean, it's great to see you, but… How did you find me?"

Well that was _smooth._ Her smile didn't diminish.

"Well, I'm here in London for an internship for six months. Graphic design kinda stuff. And I'm _here_," she motioned around her, to the pub itself, "to see ya. I dropped by the office ya work at, but your boss told me ya came here. Sooo…" She gave him another of her wonderful smiles. "Here I am."

Racking up the number of unexpected things to happen today, perhaps it would've been a good idea to start getting superstitious. And Ida's nosiness for once doing more good than harm was just the icing on top. He'd all but forgotten his original reason for being at this pub. And maybe that was a good thing.

Noticing that she was still standing, he motioned to the seat across from him, "You can, ah… Sit, if y'like."

Michelle took his offer gratefully, placing her own bag on the ground next to her seat. Settling herself into the seat, Custiel asked, "How'd you know where I work?"

And it was a legitimate question. They hadn't kept in contact with one another after she moved. It was too difficult to do so. And living in a time without the type of instant communication there was now, the charges for international calling were just out of the question.

"You remember Rory, yea?"

Custiel nodded. Rory was a mutual friend they'd had in their classes. Custiel and him had a bit of a falling out somewhere around high school (something about his girlfriend Amy coming onto Custiel and Rory calling off their friendship because of that; it was stupid, they were stupid teenagers, but the fact remained they fell out once), but they still talked every now and then. Enough that Custiel had probably slipped the info of where he was currently working and had been working for a couple years now. More than likely he slipped how much he hated his job and how much of a bitch Ida was. Had Rory and Michelle kept contact?

"Well, I asked him if he knew where to find ya, where ya worked, that sort of thing. Since I was in town, I thought I'd come and see ya." She gave a small shrug as he folded her arms into her lap, another smile lighting up her features like a warm glow. "And here we-"

"Sorry I'm late, had a bit of a run in with... Oh, hello."

Well, this couldn't get any more awkward. That's _right,_ Custiel had come here to catch up with beloved brother Tenth. And he was late. Very late. Nearly an hour late. So here he was, stumbling in on Michelle and his conversation. He looked quite done up, as usual. Tousled and gelled hair with thick sideburns – gotta make the ladies and men swoon from the new age _'look at me, I just rolled out of bed, aren't I cute?'_ look – in combination with a tight pinstriped suit to outline his stick-thin figure and a face that oddly looked nothing like Custiel's. Were they even related again? Oh right, apparently they both got their mother's ears.

Michelle looked up to the man suddenly intruding on their conversation, a look of confusion but not repulsion on her face. Custiel cleared his throat, "Ah, Michelle! This is my, ah… Brother. Tenth. I was originally meeting him here and _he's late_."

"Like I was saying," Tenth emphasized again. "There was a bit of a run in with a late patient. Nice to meet you, Michelle," he offered his hand for a shake which she happily took and gave a shake. "Friend of Custiel's?"

There was also the fact that, tying in not only his good looks, his charisma, and his outgoing nature, he was a doctor to boot. He looked much the same as ever.

"Yea, we go way back," Michelle confirmed with a pleasant nod, not seeming to be at all inconvenienced by this meeting. In fact, she smiled more, "Tenth? Is that really your name?"

Tenth shined a smile her way as he reached over and grabbed a chair from a nearby table, sliding it up and settling himself to Custiel's left, Michelle's right. He chuckled, "No, no, not really. Just an old nickname. My name's John, but I prefer Tenth."

_Dad's doing, of course_, Custiel sarcastically thought to himself.

Michelle responded, "Hey, that reminds me! Custiel, remember when we first met, I couldn't pronounce your name, so I nicknamed ya Custy?"

That got a laugh out of Tenth, "Custy?! You never told me that one before."

"Yeah, see, _there's_ the reason, right there" Custiel retorted, suddenly wishing he hadn't completely downed his pint just yet. Maybe he should order another. This day was going everywhere at once and he didn't know what to expect next.

Tenth raised his left eyebrow, another laugh coming out, "_What?!_ What're you talking about?"

Custiel shot a glance his brother's way, something saying _'I'm done with your shit already'_. Tenth knew that look, so he just moved on.

"Custy, blimey, that's a good one, Michelle. Custiel is a mouthful anyway, isn't it?"

Michelle giggled along, "I think it's a great name. Custiel, I mean. I just had trouble pronouncin' it. I was young, don't judge."

At least she didn't mention the triceratops. There were some things that should just be left in the darkness of childhood. It wasn't like he minded the nickname. In fact, it grew on him. She'd always call him that name. A couple years into their friendship, she began trying to call him Custiel, but Custy always somehow stuck anyway. He certainly didn't judge.

And neither did Tenth, apparently. There was an awkward silence that suddenly passed between the three, the initial hellos said and done, there was room for practically any topic to come up next. The general ones, of course. Yet nothing came. All that surrounded them were the sounds of the other customers, some clinking glasses, and the distant telly that was playing a game of football. Probably. Custiel so wished that he could get back to catching up with Michelle instead of Tenth. Even if that was the original intent.

Michelle was the first to break the silence as she looked up to the clock situated somewhere above the bar. "Oh!" Her eyebrows rose very slightly and she reached down to grab her bag. The sudden movements caught both of the brothers' attention, and Michelle began to dig through her bag.

"I'm sorry, I really am, but I've got to go," she explained quickly, finally producing a pen and paper. She quickly scribbled something on it and handed it over to Custiel. "That's my number. Call me when ya get the chance and we can catch up some more. Maybe hang out."

Taking the piece of paper, Custiel gave her a warm smile, grateful for both the promise of seeing her again and the break in the awkward silence. "You got it, Michelle," Custiel said with a nod as he pocketed the number.

She slid off her chair, giving a small wave as she began to walk off, "See ya later, Custiel! And it was nice to meet ya, Tenth."

"Brilliant to meet _you,_ Michelle," Tenth confirmed with a smile and wave her way.

Custiel joined with the waves and goodbyes, but she'd turned away just as he said goodbye, not sure if she heard him or not before she was out the door. He bit his lower lip very slightly, his arm coming back to rest on the table next to his empty glass. Now to deal with a whole new awkwardness.

Tenth was quick to switch seats, now coming to sit across from Custiel. He waved over to the bartender, "Two more pints of whatever he had."

"So, almost four years," Custiel began, not even bothering to object to Tenth ordering him another drink. He felt like he needed it. "How, ah… How've you been?"

"Good!" He responded, almost cheerfully. "Good, I've been absolutely great, even. But I've got to ask, where'd you meet her?"

Custiel rubbed his hand over his forehead, dragging it down the side of his face, "Start of Junior. Year 3."

"And you never mentioned her to me?" He even looked a bit wounded at that.

"_Four years, **John**_," Custiel reemphasized, knowing how he didn't like to be called by his actual name. Payback for laughing at Custy? Maybe. "It's been four years since you said a word to me."

"Oh, come on," he reached over, nudging Custiel's arm a bit just as someone set the ordered drinks on the table. "What was stopping you from calling me?"

"Ahhh, right! 'Course, you're right, I mean your complete and total allure should've been enough to drag me right into that call with you," came the sarcastic response as he reached for the new pint, taking a small swig. "Maybe if you'd paid attention when we were kids, you'd have seen her 'round."

Tenth took a small sip from his glass, pulling it away to say with confusion, "I never remember her around."

"Yeah, well, she was," he countered, setting his pint down. This was already turning out _great._ "Look, I don't think the definition of _'catching up'_ involves talking about my _friend_." Was he being possessive? Alright, maybe a little.

"Alright, alright. Touchy," Tenth commented as he took another sip.

Custiel gave a sigh, "How's dad?" Not that he really wanted to know, but hey, they were catching up.

"He's fine. Apparently getting into stocks now," Tenth nodded, seeming to be a bit unphased by this new activity of his. It wasn't surprising, though. That man was always trying to do any kind of _'get rich quick'_ schemes he could.

Custiel gave an almost mirthless chuckle, "Sounds like dad."

The conversation then carried to parts that Custiel was only somewhat involved in. Mainly he listened to Tenth go on about stories of bizarre patients, how he saved a lot of people daily, and that it made him feel fulfilled. Good for him, Custiel supposed. Somehow Custiel delved into the job at Mile Recruitments, how he had to practically wait hand and foot on Ida, and that he found his life a bit routine, but it was alright. Tenth seemed to have some genuine happiness that his little brother was doing okay, but Custiel had to wonder if it was because Tenth knew he was doing better than him, as usual, or if he was honestly happy for his well being. He found the former more likely.

Then, somewhere along the lines, Custiel found himself distracted with Michelle and her stay here in London. Six months, she'd said. Six months and then what? Move back to the states maybe? He didn't even know if she was still in school or anything of that sort. How was America, did you adjust well, did people find your accent funny, more importantly, how are you? These were questions he wanted to ask her, but he just didn't quite know how. Nor did he get the chance. But that number was burning in his pocket, and he knew it was just possible he may get the chance to ask them.

"…and then dad would always say, that's not reverse, that's neutral!"

Both brothers finally shared a genuine laugh as they finished the sentence together. As much as Custiel disliked his father, the stories still had their moments. And it seemed even Tenth could find it in him to laugh at their dad. But that was a small morsel of good things between them compared to all the bad. And because of that, Custiel's smile quickly faded, much quicker than Tenth's.

There was another silence that followed. Custiel's pint was much more empty than Tenth's was, even though it was his second one. This day just felt like a roller coaster that he couldn't get off of. But the signal that showed the end was nearing was the ring of Tenth's mobile.

He answered it quickly, giving a few short, "yeah, yes, mhmm," responses before came, "I'm on my way."

Hanging up the call, he replaced his phone in its original place, standing as he did so, "Got to go, my next shift is starting soon."

Custiel gave a small nod and the hint of a smile, "Right."

"Oh, one more thing," Tenth said as he pushed his chair in, hesitating slightly almost as if he weren't quite sure of himself. "Any chance I could get Michelle's number from you?"

Custiel's mouth opened to respond, but nothing came at first. He tried again, "She didn't give you her number."

"Yeah, which is why I'm asking you," he said as if it were obvious. "Can I have it?"

Custiel's eyebrows furrowed, "No, I don't think you can. Don't you think that'd be a little odd if you call her up when she didn't give you her number?"

Tenth considered this for a moment. "Well, yes. Well, yes and no. I could just say I got it from you."

"Blimey, you've heard of this thing called _being respectful_, yeah? Taking her number without her consent? That's not exactly respectful," said the little brother to the bigger one who should already know this sort of common courtesy.

"_Well_," he repeated for the third time, dragging it out a bit. "Alright, you're right, you're right. Sorry. Maybe I'll just… Run into her eventually and ask her then. Anyway, cheers!"

Custiel leaned back more into his seat as Tenth walked off, giving a sigh. He slowly slumped into a position that couldn't have been at all comfortable. And really, it wasn't. But he didn't care. Tenth seemed just a little too interested in Michelle and it, quite frankly, rubbed him the wrong way. But he had to look at it this way. Michelle's number was in his pocket, and not in Tenth's. So who's the winner today? _This_ little brother.

* * *

Alright, so maybe having those pints weren't such a great idea after all. Custiel's journey back to his flat was a tad bit wobbly, his tolerance not exactly the highest for alcohol. But once he'd gotten home and brewed himself some tea, it got a bit easier to handle. Tea had always done the trick to keep him level headed. Even if it was just a placebo effect.

Coming into his bedroom of his small flat, Custiel slid his suit jacket off, that stupid tie he didn't even like following soon after onto his bed. He intended to get some extra scheduling work done before tomorrow, knowing Ida would be down his throat in no time at all if he didn't get those done in time. Schedule was everything to the woman. And that was just his job, as thrilling as it was. But there was something calling to him.

Said something was located in a blue shoebox, the corners of the shoebox tattered and most of the original coloring gone and worn. He slid open the off white closet door in his bedroom, reaching up to an upper shelf and bringing down that little box. He shook it very slightly, confirming that it was still filled. Custiel stepped over to the small desk covered with papers in an unknown organized mess, pressing them all aside to make room for the box. Settling into the creaking swivel chair, he paused a moment to roll up his white sleeves, then he opened the box.

A smile slowly curled at his lips as he dumped the assorted papers onto the desk; they were of all shapes and sizes and colors. Some were torn, some still looked to be in great condition. But they were all a part of his childhood. The good parts of it. The parts that included Michelle.

Some had her drawings, her wonderful drawings that were amazing for her age. She was only 6 when they met and even then, her stick figures were much more intricately designed than his. And then he came across Tricey. Oh, this got a laugh out of him.

_"It looks like a… Like a blob!"_

And boy, did it. But behind that paper were pictures of improved triceratops, and they were, of course, by Michelle. She always tried to teach him the right way to draw one after she'd learned to draw it herself. Tricey had certainly seen better days judging by his drawings. Among all the other doodles, there was one he came to that had a picture of him. It was crudely drawn, but it was the most special of the bunch

It was the last picture she'd drawn for him before she moved away. He ran his fingers over the too-bright-green eyes, the floppy hair, the square face, and more importantly, the letters above him.

_'CUSTY BECAUSE YOUR REAL NAME IS FUNNY'_

Should he call her now? Maybe not. It was too soon and he was still slightly buzzed. No, not today, there was no rush. But tomorrow. _Definitely_ tomorrow.


	2. Bad Day

"_I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I didn't know!"_

_The smoke was thick, it stung eyes and it clung to the air around them like an adamant adhesive. The flames were still engulfing the building in its wicked licks, leaving nothing behind undamaged. _

"_You useless boy! All you ever do is fuck up! This is all your fault! All of it!"_

_The boy with lopsided hair, disheveled and sitting atop a square face that was clouded with dirt and tears, mouth begging for mercy, "Please, dad, you have to believe me-"_

_The man's voice roared out once more, the thickness of barely held back tears clouding his tone, "Shut up! Get out of my sight! You murdered my wife! Murdered her!"_

* * *

Suddenly, his eyes flew open, head jolting up quickly. Too quickly. There was a subtle pounding in Custiel's head, the events of yesterday rushing back to him. Michelle, Tenth, Tricey, blimey what kind of day was that? But it was better than the dream he'd just had. He hadn't had any kind of dream about that fire in years, but he supposed he could blame it on the fact he was bombarded with reminders of it the day before.

Groaning, he sat up more properly, noticing there was… A paper stuck to his cheek? He was still at his desk. He must've fallen asleep sometime during his scheduling work. Rubbish place to sleep. Peeling the paper off his face, he then got a sudden nervousness lodged in the pit of his stomach.

_What time was it?_

Looking to the watch on his wrist, having to blink a few times and squint, his eyes went wide. "Shit," he cursed, suddenly jumping up from his seat. Again, too quickly. His head pounded once more, but that was the least of his problems. He quickly gathered what papers he could that were spread on his desk. Which ones did he need today? Which ones should he leave behind? God, he didn't know, he didn't care, he was late, and so just taking all of it seemed the better option. Ida would be nothing but in his face for this.

He could've done without this small hangover. It was enough that he was late and that he was in such a rush, he neglected to pick out a different tie for the day. Same stupid brown tie. His hatred for the garment only grew each time he wore it, and wearing it two days in a row? Double the hate points.

Sliding his jacket that he'd lie onto the bed the night before back onto his shoulders and on his arms, he began to smooth down his hair best he could. He had to look somewhat presentable. It's a shame he'd choose wearing the same clothes over being late. Ida hated tardiness more than anything.

Shoving all the papers he deemed he needed (which, quite frankly, cleared his desk pretty nicely) into his shoulder bag, he slipped his shoes on, made sure his tie was tightened enough, and he was rushing out the door. He was thankful Mile Recruitments was only a few blocks away from his flat. It made for a quick journey, which is just what he needed.

As he half-ran, half-jogged, he was dodging other passerbys, sliding in and out of their bodies best he could. It was just after lunch. He should've been clocked in hours ago. He could imagine the bitching that would come from his boss now. And it made him quicken his pace just a bit.

Just as he turned a corner, the last corner with the office now in sight, a streak of blonde hair caught his attention. And apparently, he caught the owner of the blonde hair's attention as well. He suddenly came to a stop before, who he couldn't believe running into of all times, Michelle. What kind of coincidence was this?

"Michelle!" He stammered, trying to find words but still a bit hung up in the rush of getting to work before it got any later.

She simply smiled at him, obviously pleasantly surprised, "Custiel, hey! …Are ya alright?"

He gave a few nods, "Yeah, yeah, m'fine, just ah… Late." He flicked his sleeve back slightly, looking at his wrist watch. "Very late for work."

"Um, Custiel, ya got…" she began, trailing off slightly as she scrutinized his features. He's got… What? Was there something on his face? Was it because he didn't have time to shave? Custiel just blinked a few times as he adjusted his bag, waiting for her to continue. She gave a few giggles.

"What? What? I've got what?" Custiel urged, feeling the beginnings of a blush fighting its way to his cheeks.

Reaching into her purse, Michelle produced a small rag, "Ya've got somethin' on your face."

Custiel felt his heart speed up a bit, absolutely embarrassed by his condition. He must've looked ridiculous. Here he was in the same clothes as yesterday, hair just barely tamed, and something on his face. Of course she looked lovely as ever, her hair seeming to be a bit more straightened than yesterday and an outfit that extenuated her figure nicely (light blue blouse and white skinny jeans). And now she was leaning forward with her handkerchief, rubbing at the same spot he'd woken with the paper stuck to his face.

Was that Tricey stained on his cheek? He wouldn't doubt it. He could only hope that she didn't notice the heat that began to swim on his features. She worked studiously at removing the mark from his face, her movements against his skin gentle but surely doing the job. Custiel could do nothing but stand completely still, watching her face as she bit her lower lip in concentration soon after smiling as she leaned away.

Custiel took a breath then, not realizing he hadn't been breathing when she'd moved to rub the smudge off his cheek. "There! All better," she confirmed as she put the rag back into her purse.

He stumbled to find the right words, but eventually came up with, "Ah, th-thanks, Michelle."

"Ya better get to work, yea?" Michelle reminded him with a bit of an amused smile on her lips. He knew that smile. It was a smile that said as much as she found him to be silly, she was fond of that.

Blinking a few times he gave a few, sudden nods, almost like he'd forgotten all about work and responsibilities, "Right, yeah, work. You're right. Hey, I'll ah… I'll call you after work 'n when can talk more then. Sound good?"

If he could be physically crossing his fingers for a yes, he would.

"Yea, that sounds great," she confirmed, her smile not wavering for a second. Okay, so maybe this would be a highlight of his day. He had to believe that.

Reluctantly, Custiel gave her a nod, awkwardly unsure how to say goodbye to her. Hug? Hand shake? Nah. He just settled for a small wave, "See you 'round, Michelle."

Just as he began to walk off, she waved back, "You too, Custiel."

Custiel was sure he was still fighting off that blush that had deceptively crept along his face as he entered Mile Recruitments. He had to focus on something else other than having to deal with Ida. So fighting down a blush that had surely already disappeared by now was the better alternative. With more than half of the work day gone, he knew he was going to hear it from her.

Coming into his portion of the office, a room just before hers, he set his bag into his seat, leaning over the computer on his desk. He logged in, clocked in, loving how even the computer reminded him he was late with red numbers. God, he hated that.

Taking a deep breath he stepped over to Ida's door, preparing himself. He straightened his tie, jacket, cuffs, anything and everything, even his hair. His hand lingered a moment longer over his cheek where Michelle had wiped the smudge off, and gaining some sort of confidence from it. Here goes nothing.

He gave a few short knocks, not even moments later came, "Come in."

And so he came in. There sat behind her desk, Ida, who looked the same practically every day. Black hair in a tight bun, a suit that was too sharp and formal to be cheap, and lines forming on her forehead as her definitive eyebrows knit together. She would be pretty if she didn't insist on dressing so formally and uptight. Because of that, she always seemed much older than 37.

"And what time do you call this," she demanded, her voice deep yet it had a sharp sting to it.

Custiel stepped into her office more properly, finding his hands folding in on themselves again and again before him, "Not the time I should be here, I know, I know, I ah…"

"Weren't you wearing those clothes yesterday?" Way to shoot the elephant in the room.

Looking down at himself, Custiel nervously tried to straighten out any creases he could see. Like it would matter. "Ah, yeah, I woke up late 'n-"

"You're quite lucky you're a brilliant secretary, else I'd fire you right here and now for being so late," she cut in. That was a compliment… Maybe. But he felt a small wave of relief at that. Sometimes her direct bluntness was a good thing.

"Sorry, sorry, won't happen again," Custiel promised with a curt nod or two.

"Get me some coffee, Lungbarrow. Black."

Like she needed to remind him of what kind. "You got it," he said just as he was about to walk back out to get her drink, she stopped him.

"Rough night?" she asked, Custiel not in the least bit surprised by her nature to poke and prod for information about his life.

Pausing in the doorway, he gave a small inaudible sigh, "Yeah, something like that."

* * *

There was an overwhelming amount of relief that came over Custiel as he exited the office. Like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Not only because this day was that much closer to being over, but because now he would fulfill his promise to call Michelle. Work was over. He was free for the rest of the night. He could do this.

Standing in the slowly darkening sidewalk just outside Mile Recruitments, he reached into his pocket for the paper Michelle had given him. In the back of his mind, he had a small worry that maybe it'd fallen out or he'd forgotten it back home. But, much to his pleasure, it was right where he'd placed it yesterday.

Just as he pulled it out, he pulled out his phone, first logging the number into his contacts and then coming to a moment of hesitation. He took a few small breaths, going over what he would say in his head, then pressing dial.

Bringing the mobile up to his ear, he waited. And waited. He was beginning to think she wouldn't answer. But then, on the last ring, there was her voice.

"Hello?"

Custiel gave a small smile and began to pace slightly, "Michelle! Hello. S'me, Custiel."

There was a rush of recognition in her tone, "Custiel! There ya are. I was wonderin' when you were gonna call."

His smile grew as he considered that. She was wondering when he'd call. She was thinking about him. "Just got off," he confirmed with a nod, even though she couldn't see it. "Promised I'd call you, didn't I?"

A small giggle, "Yea, ya did. How was work?"

"Escaped the wrath of my boss, luckily," Custiel chuckled along with her.

"Good, I'm glad," there was an obvious smile in her tone and it only made Custiel grin wider. She sounded genuinely happy to be talking to him, and he was right. This was the highlight.

"So, ah," he began after a moment of silence, clearing his throat. He stepped up to the side of a lamppost, leaning on it slightly. "Listen, would you maybe want to… Meet up? Maybe grab a bite?"

Custiel waited with near bated breath, his eyes closing tightly as silence greeted him. He was about to speak again when she said, with clear disappointment in her tone, "I'm sorry, Custiel, I really am, but I've already got plans."

"Oh, no, no, it's fine, really," he was quick to recover, feeling suddenly quite deflated. But now he was curious. "You got plans with someone else?"

Hesitation, "Yea, I-"

Right away, he wished he hadn't asked that. He didn't have a right to ask that! So bloody stupid. "I-I mean, it's none of my business, so never mind. Forget I asked. We'll just have to…" He paused, mentally berating himself over and over. "Meet another time."

A sudden and small laugh was heard on the other end, "It's alright, I don't mind! Ya sound so nervous, Custiel. Don't worry 'bout it so much."

Always observant, Michelle was. He tried to push the nervousness away as she continued, "Anyway, it's with Tenth."

Custiel's stomach dropped, his shoulders slumping against the lamppost, his head falling. Of course.

She went on, unbeknownst to Custiel's distress, "Funny enough, we ran into each other at Regency Café. We were both there for lunch, so we figured we'd eat together. And we're plannin' to meet in a bit."

Maybe this _wasn't_ the highlight of his day after all. He went completely silent, contemplating this. Imagining Tenth sitting with her at lunch. And then imagining them together… Wherever they were planning to meet up. Then he had the thought of when he'd stumbled across her earlier, it must've been after she'd had lunch with him. His stomach churned in knots and before he could linger on these thoughts any longer, Michelle's voice was snapping him out of his reverie.

"Custiel? Ya still there?"

In response, a bit of a quiet and hoarse voice, "Yeah, yeah, 'm here. Anyway, ah, that's great." He paused clearing his throat for what felt like the millionth time that day. He tried to sound happy about it, "Really, that is. M'sure you're gonna have a great time, he's a really.. _Great guy._"

He can't believe he just said that.

"We can meet Friday, if ya want," she offered, her voice sounding unsure. Maybe she sensed the tension in his voice. "I don't have anythin' planned then."

This made him perk up a bit, but not by much, "Yeah, that sounds brilliant. That works out 'cause I don't have to work on Friday." Three days. Could he make it?

There was a small uplift on the other end, "Friday it will be, then."

"Friday," he confirmed with a tired smile.

"Talk to ya later, Custiel."

"Yeah…"

* * *

With a toss, his shoulder bag was quickly across the room, landing with a thud on floor of the living room. Coming back to his small flat was always a bit comforting to him, because it signaled the end of the day. Usually it would make him relax, make him feel at ease. But this time, it felt like the opposite. Because here he was, alone at home while his brother was out with _his_ friend. _His_ Michelle. What were the odds they would both bump into her on the same day?

His body fell heavily into the cushioned chair just before the telly, a groan coming from his throat. That headache had been plaguing him all day and it only seemed to get worse. Especially after this, the very thing he thought would be the cure to it. He slumped into the chair, his head hanging lazily over the back.

Well, now what? Make tea, watch some stupid program, shower, then sleep? Is this all his life was about? Would it be everything it'd be about? Work, flat, bed, work, flat, bed. Normally his thoughts weren't this depressing, but he had an excuse, didn't he? He liked to think so.

Brushing the thoughts off, he was going to try and cheer himself up. And how to do that? Fish fingers and custard. An odd treat, but it'd always been one of his favorites. As a child, he was often very experimental about his tastes in food. He'd try literally anything. Except apples and pears. But fish fingers and custard topped all the odd confections. It even reminded him of Michelle. She found it funny, even though she tried it herself and didn't like it. So she'd call him Custard Man sometimes. He supposed it went hand in hand with his other name, Custy. Michelle and her nicknames.

Giving a light sigh, Custiel propelled himself from the chair, loosening his tie as he did so. He didn't even bother to take it off, finding the mission of making fish fingers and custard much more important. Opening his fridge, his eyes scanned the many assorted items, spotting several things wrong.

He was out of fish fingers. He was out of custard. And he was out of milk. A grimace suddenly plagued his features. He'd have to go to the store. He even debated whether he should go now or not. Just how much did he want the fish fingers and custard? Apparently not that much. He just shrugged it off. There was always time to do it tomorrow anyway. He'd had enough excitement today as it was.

Instead, he decided to get a shower. Without the time to take one this morning, he felt it was really in order. He was in and out quick as he could, figuring he should try to finish that scheduling work he'd started last night. The work he'd planted his face in and slept on. He couldn't let these new events from his ordinary schedule put him out of whack. He was just lucky Ida had been a family friend; otherwise there would've been less incentive to keep him on. Or really less incentive to give him this job at all. He had to be thankful for the little things, he supposed. Even if he didn't really like them.

As he stepped out from the shower, feeling a bit better than before, he looked himself over in the mirror. He noted to himself he should probably get a bit of a haircut, his hair getting a bit too long for his taste. His hazel eyes were surrounded by redness, the scar cutting vertically along his hairline much more visible in this light than normal. Giving himself a swift shave, even though he didn't necessarily need it, he made quick work to dry himself off and get dressed.

The sound of the telly floated around the small room, lulling him into an ease that brought him closer to sleep. Was it the news? Was it a game show? He wasn't sure and the more it went on, the more it phased out. He was drifting, slumped in that chair of his. It wasn't long before he knew he'd be out. He didn't get that scheduling work done. He hadn't even managed Ida's diary in lately, which he severely needed to do. But to hell with it…

_Knock, knock, knock._

Custiel nearly jumped, the sudden strong knocks at his door bringing him out of his drifting state. His eyes focused on his television, wondering if maybe it had come from there. But all that greeted his eyes was the news.

_Knock, knock._

His head whipped over toward the door, realizing then someone was knocking. Running his hand over his face, trying to shake the sleep from him, he made his way to the door. Unlocking it, he pulled it open to see exactly who he'd rather not see.

"You _do_ still live here!" Tenth beamed a grin, wearing a blue suit this time around. "I knew it."

Custiel gave him a tired look, not wanting to deal with his brother, not after today, "Hindsight's twenty twenty, m'sure you didn't absolutely know. I could've moved."

Was his tone a bit hostile? Maybe a little.

"Nah, you're too predictable, I know you," Tenth said, either ignoring Custiel's tone or just simply missing it.

"What d'you want?"

Tenth placed his hands in his pockets, giving a small shrug, "Thought I'd come and see if you still live here, see if it's changed any. Mind if I come in?"

He did mind, but he stepped back to let him in. No point getting huffy over it. This was just how Tenth was anyway. Tenth stepped past him and looked around, first to the small kitchen to his left then the just-bigger-by-barely living room. He pouted out his lower lip, giving a few nods, "Still a bit small. Got new furniture."

Custiel closed the door and stepped over to him, "It's a flat. S'not like it can grow any bigger."

"Alright, smarty," the older brother said. "Just commenting."

Really, what did Tenth expect? Custiel had just gotten the flat right before they stopped talking and Tenth zoomed off to medical school. Four years he's had the place. And in all the four years, the only other time Tenth had been in it was when he helped him move into it. One of the very few brotherly deeds he did for him.

Tenth stepped over to the small bookshelf that lined the wall beside the telly, examining the many books there. Custiel had always been a book reader. More than anything, romance novels. He'd never admit it, but he was quite a romantic. Never out loud, never ever. He'd hardly admit it. He was terribly embarrassed by his enjoyment of romance novels, but that didn't stop him from reading them.

"You should come by my flat sometime," he said, almost as an afterthought. "Much bigger." He pauses, not noticing Custiel's slightly annoyed expression at that comment, and picks up a book. "Pride and Prejudice. You always were the type for romance."

Custiel could feel himself flushing a bit at the comment so he quickly offers, "Want some tea? I was 'bout to make myself some." Not actually, but he certainly needed some himself.

Tenth placed the book back and looked over to him with a smile, "That sounds great, thanks."

"You can sit, if y'like."

Custiel didn't focus on Tenth. He set to making tea. A calming act in itself that he didn't even notice as Tenth sat himself down onto the couch. It was quiet for several long moments. Long enough that the water had already started to boil and he was just about to pour it into a cup when came the subject he didn't want to address.

"So, like I said I would, I bumped into Michelle today," Tenth began, an obvious sort of smugness in his voice. The suddenness of the topic made Custiel's hands tighten, his grip on the kettle shaking ever so slightly. The hot water missed its target momentarily, finding its place on his hand. A sudden yelp came at the searing pain. He tried to stifle it, not wanting Tenth to get all medical on him.

But the noise did confuse him, "Everything all right?"

"Yeah, fine," he was quick to dismiss, running water over the burn as fast and discreet as he could. "You bumped into Michelle?"

Of course that prompted him to continue his story. "Yeah, I did! Even more brilliant, we're meeting up again tomorrow since it's my day off," Tenth told him with a smile in his tone and face.

The burn on his hand nearly stung as much as Tenth's words. But he couldn't let it get to him. He had to brush it off. "Oh," well that came out a bit dejected. Try again. "Oh! That is brilliant. What're you two gonna do?"

"Probably just dinner, maybe see a film," he said it so casually.

Custiel didn't say another word as he finished making the tea, bringing over a steaming cuppa to Tenth. Handing it to him, Custiel settled himself into his usual chair.

"It was quite funny," Tenth went on, "how we both decided to have lunch at the same place, same time. I couldn't believe it when I saw her there. She'd ordered a cheesecake, although she calls it a cheesepie apparently, and said that was her lunch alone. So I bought her a more proper lunch, even though she insisted that her cheesepie was the only lunch she'd need. Then later, we met up for-"

"Alright, I get it," Custiel cut in suddenly, eyes drilling into his tea. "You two had a great day, got it."

Tenth stared at him with an odd look of amusement, "You know, you are absolutely touchy about Michelle."

"No m'not," he threw back defensively.

Tenth gave a laugh, "You completely are!"

Custiel sighed audibly, "Can we just… Change the subject."

"You two get in a fight I'm not aware of?"

"No," Custiel's voice rose slightly. "I just don't want to talk 'bout it. S'that so hard to understand?"

Tenth watched him for a moment more before realization dawned over his features, a smile that just made Custiel want to throw a fist at it growing on his features, "Ohhh, I get it! You're jealous."

"Look, we can either change the bloody subject, or you can just leave," he retorted far too quickly.

"Well," Tenth began, finally taking a sip of the tea. "Believe it or not, I really like your tea, so I'd like to finish it at least. So fine, you win, change of subject."

Custiel didn't know whether to breathe a sigh of relief or brace himself for the next topic that might make him cringe. He then takes a drink of the tea himself, hoping it will help him get through this situation in one way or another.

There was nothing but the sound of the telly keeping them company through the silence before Tenth finally spoke up, placing his cup on the table before the couch, "So, are you seeing anyone now?"

"No, you?" Custiel responded, not sure if this was the way he wanted the conversation to go.

"Not really. There was this girl, Rose, but her and I broke things off. She got into some rehabilitation work and apparently fell for a guy that needed her more than me. Or something like that. What about that one girl Clara you were with?"

Custiel could feel an odd sense of both dread and elation at this. For one, he got dumped for another guy. Apparently in rehab. But that meant he was free. And Michelle seemed to be his next goal. Nonetheless, he pushed those thoughts away and shook his head, "Long story." He didn't want to delve into the story of Clara. Too much of a headache.

Finishing his tea, Tenth kept looking at Custiel with this… _Look_. Custiel couldn't describe it, but perhaps it was something of suspicion? His next words confirmed that pretty well.

"You're not giving me much to work with here," Tenth finally said.

Custiel looked over to him for the first time in their conversation, a bit confused, "What're you talking 'bout?"

Tenth's fingers wrapped around one of his earlobes, pulling it taut in an old habit that had always stuck with him, "I'm talking about how you're so closed off. We're brothers, we should be able to talk about this kind of stuff, right?"

Custiel's eyes made contact with the other man's, "You've never been much of a brother to me all our lives, so why the change now?"

This seemed to strike a bit of a nerve in Tenth, "It's not my fault there were a lot of differences between us, Custiel."

"Oh, and things are different _**now?**_"

"Maybe if you'd give that a chance-"

Custiel suddenly cut in, "_You never gave me a chance when dad did nothing but blame me for mom's death!"_

Custiel knew very well Tenth didn't blame him for that fire like their dad did. But he certainly never stood up for him when he would get berated for a stupid stove fire he hadn't even meant to start.

There's a silence that pierced through even the news still playing in the background, making it mute somehow. Both stared at one another, the tension in the room suddenly quite high. To which Custiel simply said, "You should leave."

A few more moments of tense silence passed before Tenth gave in, "Fine."

Tenth stood, moved to the door along with Custiel. Custiel opened the door for him and watched as he hesitated at the threshold, "That offer to come see my flat's still up."

And then he left. Custiel was done with today. He was done in more ways than he could even imagine. But he had something to look forward to, at the very least. Friday would be here sooner than later, he had to believe in that. Then he could ask her all those questions he'd been wanting to. All he had to do was get into bed, ignore the thought of while he was at work, Michelle and Tenth would be out together, and focus on Friday.

Friday couldn't come fast enough.


	3. Apology

Wednesday was dreadfully boring, filled to the brim with a schedule that Custiel knew well, and had no incidents worth mentioning whatsoever. But this wasn't a bad thing. For these past few days, it was a bit of a reality check to remind him that real life was still happening. He still had this stupid secretary job, he still had a stupid boss, a stupid flat to go back to, and a stupidly ordinary life to live. Although, the meeting he'd had to sit in on with Ida, taking notes like the good personal assistant he was, he found he was more distracted than normal. As much as he tried to remind himself over and over about how today was like any other before Michelle came stumbling back into his life, his thoughts would slowly float over to just where she was today.

Each time, he'd remember that her and Tenth were spending the day together. Well, maybe not the _whole_ day, but any time at all they were together was too much for Custiel to be comfortable with. He was starting to get to the point he could admit to himself he was being possessive and touchy about Michelle and who she spent her time with. Jealous even. But he wasn't _quite_ to that point of admitting.

The occasional snaps of, "_Lungbarrow!_" would get him out of that reverie, making him realize that he was _supposed_ to be paying attention to this meeting with an external party. He would quickly correct this by looking through the packet he'd arranged himself for the meeting to follow and read off, what he hoped, was their next topic of business. He was thoroughly relieved that he'd been to enough of these stupid things that it was nearly second nature he could pay half attention and still be on track.

Nonetheless, Wednesday passed him by. Slowly, but it was a usual day. He even finally got that scheduling work done he'd needed to finish for next week. He was ahead of schedule and that was encouraging. Ida would be pleased, at the very least. One less problem to deal with.

For being so terribly distracted that night, he surprisingly slept well. He might've had a dream, but he couldn't remember it. Maybe it was for the better. Besides, he was just that much closer to Friday. Tomorrow, he reminded himself. Tomorrow. All he had to do was get through another work day and it was the weekend. Simple enough, right?

His morning was another normal one. Wake up, shower, get dressed, have some tea, and then head out. Custiel made sure to pick a tie he actually liked today. Grey with stripes of blue to accent his dark blue suit. He never was much a fan of suits. He even complained about it when he first got this job. But after two years, complaining over it got tiring and he just gave in to accepting it. Packing up his shoulder bag, along with a suitcase he needed to keep briefing papers separate from his usual papers, he strapped on his silver wrist watch and he was out the door.

He'd be right on time today. Perhaps even a bit earlier than usual, just as he did yesterday. He was really trying to make an effort to make up for how tardy he was Monday, not to mention how distracted he was during yesterday's meeting (he could swear that Ida gave him nonstop glares and was no doubt making mental notes about every time he missed a beat in the meeting). He needed this job, as much as he didn't like that.

Without so much as a stumble, he was in the building, the familiar smell of Mile Recruitments setting his mind into a sort of work mode. It always had a distinct smell to it, this place.

"'Ey, Lungbarrow."

Custiel's eyebrows rose slightly at the unexpected voice of the receptionist. Thomas, Custiel remembered his name was. Middle-aged, balding, was always reading the Daily Telegraph every time he passed on his way to his desk. But he never really said anything to him. Maybe a nod Custiel's way every morning, but that was it.

A bit confused, but not wanting to be rude, Custiel adjusted his grip on the black suitcase, stepping closer to the desk he was sat behind, "Ah, yeah?"

"Some guy, your brother I think, popped on by t'see you. I let him know you'd be here soon; sent him on in. Hope you don't mind," Thomas said with a few nods, not at all privy to Custiel's internal groaning.

_What the hell was he doing here?!_ Just when he was starting to get back into somewhat of a normal schedule, here he had to come into his work even. He'd rather spend a boring business day alone, thank you very much. Well, as alone as he could with Ida always breathing down his neck about every little detail. He took what he could get.

Custiel hesitated a moment more before forcing a smile and giving a nod of his own, "Ah, no, I don't mind. Thanks, mate."

Thomas returned the smile, although it looked just as forced as Custiel's, before he turned his attention back to today's Daily Telegraph. Something about sinkholes on the front. Custiel could feel a sinkhole of his own in the pit of his stomach as he made his way to his office space, knowing that grinning matchstick of a brother would be waiting to greet him. He certainly had a few questions for him.

Just as expected, upon turning the corner to the already open door, there he was. Sitting at his desk like he was completely at home here. With that brown pinstriped suit, and even a similar blue striped tie, he even looked like he worked here. His face lit up in a smile as Custiel entered, but Custiel tried to pay him no mind, much as that didn't work.

"Look who's on time! Great punctuality," Tenth said half-jokingly as Custiel set both the suitcase and his shoulder bag beside his desk.

"What're you doing here," Custiel almost demanded, really in no mood to deal with him. Especially after their little argument back at his flat. He still hadn't forgotten that. "And why're you in my chair?"

Tenth just smiled slightly up at him and rocked back and forth slightly in the swivel chair, "What, I can't check out where you work? Nice office. Not bad."

"Yeah, well, I think I missed the memo of it being _'bring your brother to work day'_," he shot back, stepping closer. "Least you could do is get out of my chair. I don't think my boss'll be happy you're here."

And seemingly right on cue, Ida came strolling in, papers folded in her hands. Her hair was, surprisingly, down today and nearly as straight as her dark pencil skirt. Her blouse was a bit different from the usual as well, and Custiel had a thought that maybe she'd gone shopping recently.

"Oh! Lungbarrow, you're early," she nearly beamed, setting Custiel into an odd sort of place. She was being quite… Cheery. And it worried him more than her being angry any day. He watched her a bit dumbstruck as she continued, "You never told me you had a brother."

How could she miss that detail? Surely she was aware that Tenth was his brother. She was a family friend, after all. Maybe she'd forgotten. Custiel stumbled to respond, pointing at Tenth still sitting in his chair, "I-I, ah… You knew he was here?"

She waved her hand dismissively, that disconcerting smile still on her sharp face, "Oh, yes! He dropped by not long ago and he is just absolutely darling! I can hardly believe you two are related. You look nothing alike."

Custiel couldn't believe this. Or wait… Maybe he could. Who didn't immediately adore Tenth the moment he came around them?

"Yeah, we get that a lot," Custiel ground out with a small sigh, turning his attention back to Tenth. "Now, can you get out of my chair? I have to clock in, believe it or not."

"Lungbarrow, that's no way to talk to your older brother," Ida chastised, almost sounding offended on Tenth's behalf.

Tenth simply gave a small chuckle and stood, allowing Custiel past, "No, no, it's fine, he's right. I'm just getting in the way here."

Custiel was sure by the tone of Ida's voice, she was praising him for how considerate he was, or _something_. He didn't know, he didn't care. He focused on phasing out his hearing, eyes glued onto the screen of his computer as he clocked in. The green numbers were much nicer to see than the red ones, telling him he'd done a good deed in coming early. Although, perhaps it wasn't so good. Tenth was now lingering in Ida's office, her laugh carrying out with Tenth's following shortly after.

What were they on about? He didn't care. He didn't want to know. Besides, if Tenth was keeping Ida busy, maybe he could just keep to himself and escaping her commanding voice. After placing his thickly-rimmed glasses on, he pulled the suitcase up onto his desk, taking the papers from it out, needing to get them prepared for the meeting next week. Briefing papers were always his least favorite thing to do, but they weren't challenging. Just anything to keep his mind off of Tenth.

That was when his mobile began to ring. He was actually quite lucky that Ida was still being distracted by Tenth, else she wouldn't have allowed him to take the call this early in the day. Not bothering to check the ID, he quickly answered it.

"Hello," he answered, perhaps sharply and obviously annoyed.

"Uh, hey, Custiel… Is this a bad time?"

Custiel's eyes widened slightly as he recognized the voice right away. It was Michelle. He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, eyes closing tightly, and taking a small inhale, trying to calm himself, "Oh, Michelle, sorry, just ah… Busy morning. What's up?"

There was a slight hesitation on her end, still sounding concerned, "Are ya sure? I can call ya back later. Ya aren't at work, are ya?"

He was quick to reassure her, his voice softening considerably, "No, really, it's fine, 'm good." Picking up the pen on his desk, he nervously began producing light taps on the wood.

"I was callin' to ask ya what ya wanted to do tomorrow," she offered, her tone sounding a bit more consoled.

"Oh, right, tomorrow. Tomorrow's Friday." Why did he feel the need to state that? He didn't know. He leaned back in his chair, now focusing on twirling the pen between his fingers, "You'll be the boss of that. Your call. We'll do what you like. Whatever you want."

"Well," there was now an obvious smile in her tone. "Want to hang out at my place? We could order pizza or somethin'. Maybe watch a film? Your pick?"

Without his permission, a smile began to play along his lips, "Yeah, yeah, Michelle, that sounds..."

Out of the corner of his eye, Custiel noticed movement. Turning his hazel eyes, there was Tenth, watching him intently. How long had he been there?

"Is that Michelle?" Tenth slightly whispered, to which Custiel just squinted at in frustration and waved him off as he would an obnoxious fly.

"Brilliant. Actually, really brilliant," Custiel finally finished his sentence, turning in his chair away from Tenth who was, no doubt, still watching. Probably trying to nose his way into whatever the conversation was they were having. He tried to be discreet as he could, "Just text me your address later 'n I'll be there."

"Great," she said happily. "I'll be sure to do that. Talk to ya later, Custiel."

"Alright, later."

Hanging up, Custiel didn't want to turn around to see Tenth. So he wouldn't. Instead, he pocketed his mobile and turned back to his desk, deciding to continue on with his work like Tenth wasn't even there. Although it was obvious he was making that effort to ignore him.

"What was that about?" Tenth asked suddenly, although Custiel didn't respond. He just continued to give him the cold shoulder, hoping that he'd just _leave_ already.

Silence passed, Custiel not even able to get any real work done because of how much he was just focusing on ignoring Tenth. After what felt like a painful silence, there was a sigh from the older brother, "Custiel, look, I-"

"You can leave now, y'know," he jabbed back sharply as his hands stilled, his eyes shifting up to him just slightly. "I need to get some work done. Shouldn't you be doing that yourself, _doctor?_"

Tenth's face didn't hold even a hint of amusement, which was, honestly, surprising for Custiel, "My shift doesn't start 'til later. Listen, I feel… Bad about what happened the other day."

He must've been referring to their little spat when he came to visit. This certainly got Custiel's full attention, his head turning to face him more properly.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry," Tenth went on, pressing his hands within his pockets. "That could've gone better."

That was the first time he'd heard an apology of any sort from Tenth in years. Granted, he still had a lot of things to apologize for, but he supposed this was a step in the right direction. Even if it didn't mean much to him in the end. It didn't change how he felt about everything between them. Their past, all the times he would let him down, there was still a lot of damage that couldn't be fixed with an apology. But for whatever it was worth, he supposed he could take it.

Both men were silent for a time before Custiel gave a short nod or two, "Yeah." An acceptance of his apology, and Tenth seemed to get that. Although did he realize that it couldn't fix everything? Custiel wasn't sure.

Perhaps there was a goodbye said, or something along those lines. But Custiel didn't take much note of it. He attempted to get onto real work now that Tenth was gone, but he was still distracted. And it was still by Tenth. His thoughts trailed as he leaned over his desk, looking like he was trying to do work, but really his mind lingered on something that had been plaguing him since the beginning of this week. It wasn't until he heard that apology it really came to the forefront of his mind.

Why was Tenth butting into his life so much now? After everything that had happened in their life, he decides now is a good time to start getting all buddy buddy with him? Catching up, showing up at his flat, telling him that he should drop by his own flat, and now showing up at his work? What was he getting at? It didn't make much sense in Custiel's mind. He could hardly believe he just wanted a good sibling relationship, even if that was the case. Their past made him skeptical of that ever being true.

Then he thought of Michelle. Could it have something to do with her? Is that why he was trying to get so close to him? That idea made much more sense to him. Getting along with him so he could rub it in his face when he mentioned how much he went out with Michelle. He could feel the grip on his pen tightening very slightly, his mind nagging at him that this _had_ to be the explanation. This had to be why Tenth was attempting to worm his way into his life again. And he absolutely hated it.

"Lungbarrow! Lungbarrow, answer the damned phone!"

The sudden jarring voice of Ida shook him from his thoughts, and soon after followed the ring of the phone on his desk. He nearly jumped, lunging for the phone and attempting to pick it up, but it simply stumbled out of his grasp and onto the ground.

There was a small slip of a curse from his lips as he bent down to pick up the phone, unfortunately the cord long enough that it slammed against the thin carpet. He winced a bit at the impact, but grabbed it finally, bringing it up to his ear, "Mile Recruitments, Custiel Lungbarrow speak…"

Nothing but the dial tone greeted his ears. _Way to go_, Custiel thought to himself.

He pulled the phone away from him and hit himself on the forehead with it a few times, unaware that Ida was watching him from the doorway of her office, "I don't know what the hell has been wrong with you this week, but you had better get your act together."

Custiel quickly turned his attention to her, her harsh tone a stark contrast to how it was when Tenth was around. He stammered, "Sorry, sorry, s'just-"

"_No_, I don't want to hear your bloody excuses," she cut him off, her arms folding tightly across her chest. "Focus, else you'll be out of job. Understand me, Lungbarrow?"

God, she used that name like it was some sort of whip. "Yeah- yes, I understand. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I got it."

"Good," she seemed pleased enough. As pleased as Ida could get. "Now, coffee. _**Black.**_"

* * *

There always seemed to be a different sort of taste the air held after leaving the office for the weekend. Is this what freedom tasted like? Custiel liked to believe so. Today felt as though it had dragged, so maybe that was even more of a reason the chilled air smelled that much more liberating. Although, he wished he'd brought a proper jacket along today. It was much colder than it was this morning, and he could feel himself lightly shuddering as a gust of wind whipped by.

He had to decide what he was going to do and quick. There wasn't much of a desire to head back to his flat in him. After a day like today, he didn't think it'd be the best idea to be completely alone with his thoughts. Even if the day was closer to being over, he still wanted to keep himself as distracted as possible.

It was the weekend. Why not treat himself by going out to eat? He felt like he needed it anyway. This week had really thrown him for a loop and he needed a breather. Pulling his suit jacket more tightly around his form, he started in the direction of Caffé Nero.

He hadn't been to this place in quite a while, and found that he could really go for a particular dish there. He considered taking a cab, but it wasn't that long of a walk, just a couple blocks or so. He was there in no time at all. Ordering the mozzarella and cherry tomato salad and a cuppa, he could feel himself being slightly distracted from his thoughts that had plagued him earlier this morning. The buzz of the customers around him kept him focused on the here and now, although he found himself picking and prodding at his meal more than he was actually eating it. And soon enough, his thoughts began to circle around exactly what he'd come here to escape.

Just as he was about to give up and leave, his mobile sounded. He fished out the ringing device and looked to the ID, learning his lesson this morning. Rory Williams. The last he'd heard from Rory was when they went to a New Year's party together. That was roughly 3 months ago, so he was a little curious why he was calling now. But he shrugged it off and answered anyway.

"Hello?"

Rory's response was quick and to the point, "Hey, mate, you got a minute?"

"Ah, yeah," Custiel confirmed as he pushed his half empty plate away. "Yeah, I've got a minute."

"Good, 'cause I need to talk to you. Preferably in person."

Well, he wasn't exactly expecting that. But what really had been expected in this week so far?

Custiel looked around him at the moderately busy establishment, "Alright, 'm game. Actually, I'm out at Nero, so if you wanna stop by, I can wait for you."

Rory's voice had a small uplift, "Not with anyone, are you?"

"No, by myself." Did he really believe he'd be with someone? "Just got off work."

"Great, I'm on my way. See you."

Custiel was glad he knew Rory had punctuality. He wasn't the kind of guy that liked to make people wait, despite his own massive amount of patience. Pulling the mobile away from him, Custiel hung up and decided to order another cup of tea. He was grateful that Rory was coming by for a talk, whatever it was going to be about. Just what he needed to get his mind off of things. Besides, it would be good to see his friend again.

After Michelle had moved, Rory was one of his very few friends left. Along with his girlfriend, Amy, of course. But then there was that whole mess of falling out in high school and things sort of fell apart. But near the end of high school, they'd repaired things enough that they kept in regular contact. Perhaps not nearly as much as before, but enough.

Just as he received his second cup, Rory walked through the glass doors, the man looking the same as ever. He didn't change all that much. Then again, Custiel supposed he didn't change much himself either. Smiling, Custiel waved him over, and he approached his small table in the corner of the room.

His brown hair was slicked to the side, a faded blue jacket covering two extra layers of button-up shirts, and black skinny jeans to match. Rory returned the smile as he got closer, settling himself into the seat across from Custiel, "Hey, Custiel, good to see you."

"Yeah, you too, man." And Custiel meant that. It really was good to see him.

Folding his arms onto the table, Rory leaned forward very slightly, "So how've you been? Since the party, I mean?"

Custiel gave a few nods, "Good, I've been good. Just the usual. How 'bout you?"

"Usual," he responded with a small curl of his upper lip, giving a shrug to make it sound more casual. "Ida still on your arse about every little thing?"

"Absolutely," Custiel confirmed with a few chuckles that of which Rory joined in with. "Still on nurse status?"

"Oi, if you're gonna start raggin' on me for that again, I'll sick Amy on you," Rory chided defensively, yet playfully.

Custiel let out another chuckle, "Ooh, right, wouldn't want the ginge on me 'bout that."

There was a small, comfortable silence that passed between them. Custiel leaned back in his seat somewhat, fingers fiddling with a small unopened straw, "So, what'd you need to talk about?"

As if suddenly remembering, "Oh, right. Did Michelle ever contact you?"

Damn, and he was doing such a good job being distracted. He gave a nod despite that, "Yeah, she, ah… Did."

Rory seemed pleased, "Ah, good. Brilliant. You two hanging out again?"

Custiel hesitated, his fidgeting with the straw increasing. "Yeah, this Friday," he finally said before the silence became too long.

Rory's eyebrows rose after another few moments of silence, his head giving a small shake as if he were urging him on, "And?"

"And?"

"What're you two gonna do," he said as if it were obvious.

Custiel folded the straw in half, then in half again, his response terse, "Just… Hang out. I guess."

After a pause, Rory leaned back slightly, his expression a mixture of curiosity and skepticism, "You don't exactly sound… Happy about that? Aren't you, though? You two used to be really close mates. Haven't gotten into like… A fight or something?"

The straw in his fingers had been folded so tightly that it actually attempted to spring back to its original shape, flying out of his hands and landing in his cup of tea. He gave a sigh, leaning forward and taking it out, "No, no, nothing like that, s'just…"

Rory was attentively watching, waiting for him to continue. "S'just… What?" Rory urged, obviously curious.

Giving up on the straw, Custiel tossed it to the side of the table, finding it better to folds his arms across his chest, "You remember my brother, yeah?"

"Ah, yeah, the one you'd always call a prick. That brother?"

Custiel could barely fight the smile that threatened his lips, "Yeah, that brother. Tenth."

"What about him?" Rory asked with a small shrug.

Custiel gave a slight sigh, "Apparently he's been really… Interested in Michelle since she came back, 'n-"

"Oh, no, no, you know I don't like domestics," Rory cut him off with a protest and a bit of a scowl, head shaking as he got the whole idea already. "You're not gonna turn this into drama, are you? I thought we left that back in high school."

Custiel pursed his lips then, knowing he shouldn't have delved into it at all. Giving a few forced chuckles, he looked down slightly, "Yeah, no. You're right, you're right. Sorry. Forget it."

Another silence passed before Rory moved on, almost as if the previous subject hadn't been brought up at all, "Oh! Hey, yeah, that's right, I actually wanted to tell you that Amy and I are getting married."

This news brought Custiel out of his slight moment of dejection, through which his eyebrows rose and he smiled slightly, "What! Really? That's just brilliant, congrats, mate! When?"

"Yeah, thanks," he responded with a barely contained smile. He was obviously pretty happy about it, and Custiel couldn't help but feel happy for him. The two had been pretty inseparable for as long as he knew them. "It's gonna be in a little over a month, late April. Which brings me to my next question. I'm having a stag party next Saturday, and I was hoping you'd be there?"

He'd never been to a stag party. Always a first for everything. "Yeah, you bet! I'll definitely be there."

"You should invite Tenth to come, too."

If Custiel had been taking a drink of his tea, there was no guarantee he wouldn't've choked on it.

"M'sorry, what?"

Rory restated himself, "You should bring your brother."

Custiel was nearly appalled, "Why the hell would I do that?"

"I told the other guys to bring along another person, a plus one sort of thing. I'm getting married; I'd like to have a pretty big party before that has to happen."

But why Tenth? Was it because Rory thought he genuinely didn't have anyone else to actually bring along? No other mates? Well… He wasn't wrong. Not really. There was a slight internal groan that he tried his best to keep from being audible as he caved, "I'll, ah… Ask him 'bout it."

Rory seemed pleased enough, giving him a smile, "Great, thanks."

There was a thought then that Custiel might not even ask Tenth. He'd just… Lie and tell Rory that he asked Tenth, but Tenth said he was busy. Everyone wins.

A sudden stock ringtone cut in and Rory was reaching into his jacket, pulling out his mobile and examining it for a moment. "Ahh," he began, looking back to Custiel. "It's Amy. Gotta take this. But I'll text you the details sometime before the party, yeah? See you there, Custiel."

"Cheers," Custiel mumbled slightly as Rory stood, answering the call before waving him off.

Why did it seem like so much was pushing him towards being all brotherly to Tenth? Now Rory was just encouraging Tenth's attempts to get into his life. Thanks, Rory. Thanks a bunch.

* * *

Before making the final destination to his flat, Custiel remembered to stop by the store. He'd forgotten to do so yesterday, leaving him a bit deflated that he was still out of fish fingers and custard. Oh, and milk. He couldn't forget the milk. It didn't take him long to get these items. And just as he was heading to the checkout, something caught his attention.

It was a strawberry cheesecake. His mind then recalled the conversation he'd had with Tenth the other day about how Michelle seemed to like cheesecake. Or rather, cheesepie, as she called it. After debating for a few moments, Custiel decided to pick it up. He'd surprise her with it tomorrow when he came to her place. He couldn't just show up empty handed, could he? There was an odd sensation of excitement that coursed through him on the way home. The more he thought about the events tomorrow, the more he was growing excited. Perhaps a bit nervous, but he'd have plenty of time for that tomorrow, he was sure.

Finally arriving back at his flat, he immediately put the fish fingers in his microwave, not having become full from his meal at Nero. And even if he was full, this was fish fingers and custard. He wasn't going to miss out on having this stuff.

Setting down the bowl of custard and plate of fish fingers on the table before his couch, Custiel began to dig in. Even though he was a kid when he discovered this stuff, it still hadn't lost its appeal. He wondered what Michelle might think of it now.

Bringing up another for a bite, he was suddenly stopped by the buzzing of his phone on the coffee table. He brushed his hands off on his pants, swallowing as he saw he had a text from… Michelle. She fulfilled her promise to send him her address. He promptly responded:

'_I'm bringing a surprise :)'_

His knee began to bounce up and down nervously as he awaited her text, smiling more when she replied:

'_What kind of surprise? :)'_

Custiel gave a small chuckle.

'_You'll just have to be patient ;)'_

Not a minute later:

'_I can't wait ;)'_

Not so bad an ending for the day, Custiel supposed.


	4. Cheesepie

**/ / I just wanted to take a second to thank everyone who's done an awesome job at supporting this fic and I appreciate the reviews and follow so much! It's really encouraging to see people enjoying something that I enjoy making. I hope you continue to enjoy! c:**

* * *

The sound of a stock ringtone. It started out faded, far away, and muffled. Almost like there were something covering his ears and he couldn't find the source properly. But the more it went on, the more it became clear. The more the veil of sleep was washing away from him and soon enough, his eyes slowly opened.

Custiel's eyes were still thick with sleep, causing him to squint slightly to find he was staring at his red comforter that had somehow managed to cover his face during his sleep. Then he realized the stock ringtone wasn't in his dream, it was his mobile. It was still ringing out on his bedside desk. He nearly forgot that he'd finally decided to change his ringtone to a simple stock one.

Rolling to his right, his hand felt around the wooden tabletop, unsuccessful in finding his phone for a few more moments. But just as he was about to pull his head out from his covers, his hand found the object, grabbing it and quickly bringing it under the covers with him. He answered without looking, his voice groggy as he did so.

"Yeah? Hello?"

There was a subsequent giggle, one he recognized well, "I'm guessin' I woke ya, didn't I?"

Custiel went silent for a moment, feeling a bit embarrassed before he responded, trying his best to sound not so sleep-ridden, "No! No, you didn't, I've ah… Been up for a while." He rubbed a hand over his face, a slight groan ensuing as he stretched, "…What time is it?"

"It's almost two and you're horrible at lyin', anyone ever tell ya that?" Michelle asked jokingly, laughing once more.

This knowledge caused Custiel to bolt up slightly, realizing he slept way later than he'd meant. It'd been a hell of a week, so he supposed it was understandable. He ran his hand through his disheveled hair, trying to flatten it slightly, "Blimey, two. 'N alright, alright, yeah, you woke me up."

Just as he swung his legs over the side of his bed, she huffed a light laugh, "Knew it. Anyway, I called to talk to ya about our plans today…"

Was there slight apprehension in her tone? It caused him to freeze slightly, leaving him planted on the bed just as he was about to get up. "They're still on, right?" Custiel asked, trying to sound as casual about it as possible but knowing that there must've been some sort of worry detectable in there.

There was a slight pause before she said, "Well, yea, they are. Just a bit of change."

He could tell she was a bit hesitant to tell him, but he urged her on, "Which is?"

Just as Custiel was about to get up, he found he was once again glued to his bed at her next words, "Tenth was kinda wonderin' if he could maybe hang out with us as well...?"

Oh, he _would._ Custiel could feel his free hand tighten its grip on the edge of his mattress, feeling a sudden dread and annoyance at this. Friday, the day he'd been looking forward to since Tuesday, was _finally_ here. The day he thought he was going to be with Michelle alone. And like everything else, Tenth just had to let himself into those plans. Of course he didn't want Tenth to be there. He wanted Tenth to bugger off back to wherever he was before he came barging back into his life. Especially into Michelle's life, for the matter.

"It's up to you," Custiel gave in grudgingly, hoping that she wouldn't pick up on his reluctance.

Whether she was ignoring it or just didn't pick it up, she said, "I just didn't want to turn him down. Ya don't mind, do ya?"

_That wasn't the case Tuesday_, Custiel thought to himself somewhat bitterly. But he would just accept it.

Giving in, his head hung low, "No, 'course not. S'fine." Absolutely not fine. "When's he gonna be showing up?"

Maybe, just maybe, there was still enough time he could show up before his brother. Get at least some time alone with her before Tenth barged his way in.

"Couple hours? Maybe less? He's runnin' some errands apparently, so it'll be a while. Why?"

Finally, he stood from his bed, feeling a new purpose overcoming him. He could get there first. He had to.

He continued as he stepped over to his closet, "Just, ah… Just wondering. I'll be leaving in a few, that alright?"

"Yea," she said, obviously pleased he seemed to be okay with Tenth coming so late in the plans. "I should be ready by the time ya get here. So see ya soon?"

Despite the damper on today's plans, he still gave a small smile, "See you soon."

He was quick to hang up, wanting to get ready and get out the door fast as he could. He knew he'd have to take a cab to get to her place, as it was simply too far to really walk and make it on time. And time was pretty well everything right now. He had to make it there before Tenth. He had to.

As he got dressed – nothing fancy, just casual; white striped button-up shirt, leaving a few buttons undone near the top as well as not bothering to tuck it in, and black jeans – he started to resent the fact that he felt so rushed to beat his brother there. It almost felt wrong. This day was supposed to be theirs, just him and Michelle. But now that _he_ was coming along, there was bound to be a third wheel, and at this point in his life, Custiel may as well have been a professional third wheel.

Just as he finished combing his hair, Custiel grabbed his phone, determination on his features. He wouldn't take this just laying down. Selecting Tenth's number, he called it, bringing the mobile up to his ear and waiting. There were only a couple rings before his voice was on the other end.

"Hello?"

"Hey, so, what's up with you butting into Michelle and I's plans today," he demanded immediately in an accusatory tone, paying little to no attention to polite greetings.

There was a small hesitation before Tenth answered with a slightly defensive tone, "There was no butting in, Michelle invited me."

"When," Custiel said sharply, shoving his foot into one of his boots.

"Yesterday, when I called her."

_What a bastard_, Custiel thought to himself. He must've called her right after he left his office when he realized that Custiel made plans with her. There was really no telling how much he'd overheard of their conversation yesterday.

Trapping his phone between his shoulder and his ear, he went on sharply, "Well, know what I think? I think you should cancel 'n not come. Believe me, m'sure she won't cry over you not coming." He then hissed under his breath, "_I certainly won't."_

Tenth's tone then was obviously peeved, "I really don't think it's up to you. It's Michelle's call."

"We've had these bloody plans since Tuesday, John." The name usage was intentional; his laces were tied a bit too tightly now because of his frustration.

"I'm still going," came his quick and snappy rebuttal. "And if you don't like it, then you can just not come yourself."

Profanity was just on the tip of his tongue before he hung up on the other man. He would say he couldn't believe this, but this really was within the realm of what Tenth would do. And as angry as he was at him for this, he wouldn't back out. He _wouldn't._ He just had to focus on getting there before him and make whatever time they had alone worth it before his brother came and stole the spotlight. He thought he was done living in Tenth's shadow. Guess old habits die hard.

Being sure he had everything, including the cheesecake he'd bought yesterday which was packed away within a purple box, he headed out. He caught a cab and found the thirty minutes or so of weaving in and out of traffic somewhat calming. He was seething when he'd left his flat and now he was just mildly frustrated. It was all about trying to focus on the time before Tenth showed up. Once he did, then he could start seething again. Although, he'd have to hold it back as best he could around Michelle.

It seemed a blur before he finally arrived at the door of her flat, the nervousness finally bubbling up within him. He raised his hand to knock, free hand tightening the hold on the cheesecake box slightly. There was hesitation as his hand hovered before the wood, a worrying sense that maybe somehow Tenth had made it here before him. He supposed there was only one way to find out. Taking a deep inhale, he knocked and waited.

Seconds felt like minutes that dragged on before the door finally swung inward, revealing a sight Custiel was always happy to see. And she looked… Absolutely amazing. Her hair was down in its usual blonde waves, a black with white stripes top complimenting her faded green plaid skirt that stopped halfway down her thighs and black tights covering the rest of her legs.

Her full lips pulled into a pleased smile, "Custiel! Ya made it!"

Custiel cleared his throat slightly as he ducked his head, giving a small laugh, "'Course I made it, thought I wasn't gonna find your place?"

She laughed along, stepping aside to let him in, "Well, ya _did_ get lost the first time ya tried comin' to my house when we were younger."

"Oi, I was eight," Custiel remarked in his defense as he entered her flat. "'N you gave me lousy directions. Not my fault."

As Custiel stepped into her flat (which is, quite frankly, much nicer kept than his and slightly bigger), he's relieved to see no Tenth in sight. He made it. "Nice place," he commented before she could retort to his jab at her direction giving. "Very… You."

She gave him a bit of an odd look as she closed the door, a teasing smile on her face, "And how's it very me?"

He looked back to her, "Oh, y'know, it just screams _'Michelle lives here' _at me. S'not a bad thing!"

Michelle laughed fondly at that, "I _think_ that's a compliment."

"It is!" He couldn't help but laugh back.

Michelle's attention then turned to the box within his hands, sliding playfully closer to him, "So, is _this_ the surprise?"

"What d'you think," he teased with the raise of a thin eyebrow.

"What is it?" Michelle pressed, her glance switching between the box and then up to him expectantly.

Custiel gave her a toothy grin, "Try 'n guess."

"Oh, come on, Custiel," she gave him a light shove, "just tell me! Ya've kept me in suspense long enough, don't ya think?"

Well, to be fair, he suppose he had. He teased the surprise last night through a text and she'd been patient enough. So, without waiting another moment, he pulled the top back, revealing the strawberry cheesecake.

Michelle's face lit up with a wide smile, her hands clasping together before her as she gave a little bounce, "Cheesepie! Ya brought cheesepie!" In her excitement, she lunged at him, Custiel bringing the box to the side with one hand just as she embraced her arms around him.

There was a genuine laugh, mixed between surprise and pleasure, at her reaction. He stumbled back a bit but returned her hug with his free arm. All the anger and frustration that had plagued him not even an hour ago was washed from his mind, not a trace of it left. Michelle always had that effect on him, even when they were younger. In fact, it was why she was his best friend, really. Between all the belittling his father did toward him and all the showing off as well as general ignoring Tenth did, she was the thing that kept him going. And having this, _her_, back in his life couldn't make him any happier.

As she pulls away, Custiel asks, "Where can I put it, then?"

Still smiling, Michelle nods her head to her left, "On the counter in the kitchen. Come on."

Custiel followed her into the small kitchen, placing the still-open box on the black and white tiled counter, looking up as she began to speak, "How'd ya know I love cheesepie?"

"Lucky guess," Custiel said with a small shrug, not wanting to mention how Tenth told him about it.

Michelle gave a skeptical laugh, "Luckiest guess I've ever seen."

Custiel's smile then softened slightly as he leaned against the counter, facing her with arms crossed over his chest, "So how've you been, Michelle?"

Folding her hands together before her, she stood a short distance away from him and gave a few nods, "I've been good, actually. It's been a great first week here. I'm really glad to be back."

"So am I. It's brilliant to have you back 'round," he admitted, pausing a moment with pursed lips before he continued. "I've, ah… Missed you."

There was a bit of bashfulness from the comment, her blue orbs flickering away just slightly before she looked back to him, "I missed ya too, Custiel. Ya look great, though."

Custiel chuckled, feeling he might be growing flushed, "Thanks. So do you."

Both pressed their lips together, a smile tainting each of their features. There was a bout of silence that passed before Custiel cleared his throat and raised his hand slightly, gesturing to her, "So, that, ah… Internship. You said six months. Six months 'n then…? Then what?"

She crossed her arms slightly, "Goin' back to America to finish schoolin'."

"Oh," came the slightly dejected response. He could feel his heart dropping very slightly at that. Six months wasn't very long at all. He wasn't sure what he expected, really. That she'd just stay after she finished interning? He could feel his shoulders slightly drooping, but he tried to keep them up.

"D'you like it, though?" Custiel was trying to brush off the sudden sadness at that revelation. "The internship, I mean."

Michelle gave a small nod, seeming to slightly catch onto Custiel's slight deflation over the news, but not making a comment over it, "Yea, I do. All the people I've been workin' with are really nice and welcomin'. I've only got a year left of school before I'm done."

That got a more genuine smile out of him, happy for her, "Good, that's good! 'M glad to hear that."

"What about ya?" Michelle returned the question. "Do ya like workin' at… What was it again?"

"Mile Recruitments," he answered her with a sort of blandness about his tone. "It's…" He tried to fish for the right answer, but simply came up with, "Alright, I 'spose."

Michelle's head tilted very slightly, her face full of obvious concern, "That doesn't sound too sure."

"Yeah," he agreed. "I'm not too sure myself."

Her shoulders rose then fell, "Ya could just get a different job if ya don't like it."

Custiel's hands found themselves gripping at the edge of the counter behind him, his tone a bit melancholic, "Seeing as I trained for two years to get this particular job, I feel like it might jus' be a waste if I do that."

Michelle nodded a bit, "Yea, I… Guess you're right." She went quiet for some time before looking at him carefully and asking, "Are ya okay, Custiel?"

Was he? He wasn't sure. The fact that she'd be leaving again was still running through his mind, leaving doubts at every turn. But he didn't want her to know that. It would sound selfish. So he was quick to shoot a warm smile her way, his voice sounding a bit more uplifting, "Yeah, 'course I'm okay."

She doesn't completely buy it, "Ya aren't upset about Tenth coming, are ya?"

"No, no, m'not." Of course he was. Absolutely. But he still smiled. "It's okay, really."

"Ya two get along?" She seemed really adamant about making sure he was okay with something he absolutely wasn't. What could he do? Be honest and ruin things for her? No, he couldn't. And she certainly had little to no idea about his relationship with his brother. He was quite intentional about not letting her know much about him when they were younger.

"Yeah, I mean, we're brothers! We get along well enough." That wasn't the best sounding reassurance, but it was certainly something. Michelle still looked at him like she was worried, so before she could say anything more on it, he quickly tried to change the subject, "So are you gonna have any of the cheesecake today?"

"That stuff is not gonna make it through the night," she said, her unease still slightly there, but she was slowly letting it go. "Have ya ever had cheesepie?"

Custiel let out a laugh, that of which helped to lighten the atmosphere once more, "Where'd you get the _cheesepie_ thing? It's called a cheese_cake_, not a cheese_pie_."

Michelle laughed as well, leaning forward and playfully shoving at his chest, "Hey! No makin' fun of me. It's a cheesepie and that's that. Ya didn't answer my question."

"Really? What was it again?" he asked, obviously teasing.

"Ya know exactly what question!"

Custiel chuckled once more and shook his head slightly, "No, I've never had cheesecake."

Michelle seemed to be utterly taken aback by this, her mouth opening and eyebrows raising, "Ya've never had—okay. We're totally fixin' that."

As she moved over to the counter, making Custiel move out of the way, he began to protest, "Oh, no, no, no! No you don't, I got that cheesecake for _you_. Not me."

"Well, tough," she insisted as she took a pie server from a drawer, delving it into the lightly pink sweet. "If it's _my_ cheese_pie_, then I get to do what I want with it. Which means I want ya to try it."

Custiel could barely contain a laugh, "Now that's just not fair. I don't want any!"

Taking a small piece into her hand, she looked at him with determination, "Oh yes ya do."

"Oh no I don't."

"Custiel," she dragged out in a small whine. "Come on! Just close your eyes and try it. Ya don't even have to eat anymore if ya don't like it."

He gave a small sigh. Giving in. "Fine, fine," he said as he closed his eyes and opened his mouth.

He waited, expecting her to gently give him a piece, but before he knew it, nearly the whole chunk she'd taken off was shoved in and against his mouth. His eyes flew open as he chewed and was quick to swallow, his expression no doubt filled with surprise. Michelle looked at him with amusement, laughing at him.

"Ya got a little bit…" she trailed off as she motioned to her own mouth, indicating it was more than likely all over his own.

After the initial shock, Custiel soon found himself giving her a daring smile, "Oh, _that's_ how you wanna play, ay? We'll play that way."

Without much warning, Custiel reached over to the open box, scooping up a bit of the pie and promptly shoving it at her mouth. She squealed, dodging slightly, but not fully in time. It only landed halfway on her mouth. She pulled away, mock appalled, mouth wide after she swallowed what made it into her mouth.

"Ya little-" was all came out of her mouth before came another attack and a prompt high pitched laugh. Joined in were Custiel's own laughs as she retaliated once more, and before either of them knew it, they were shoving the treat at one another. It even came to the point they were tossing it at each other.

Custiel remembered a time they'd shared something similar to this. They'd often have fights with water guns, that of which they'd both end up quite drenched. But it was all worth it. And even this, flinging icing and crust at one another, was worth it.

They soon came to a stop, having exhausted about half of the cheesecake on one another. Some of it had landed on their clothes, a little bit in hair, but most of it was on one another's face. They were now caught in a laughing fit; at themselves, the sight of one another covered in cheesecake, and the entire situation.

"Look at the mess ya made!" Michelle finally said between breaths.

Custiel tried to regain himself, but still had what was honestly a fit of slight giggles, "You started it!"

"Yea, and I-" she flinged a small piece at him, landing on his chin "-finished it."

After sharing another laugh, Michelle grabbed a couple of dish towels, handing one over to Custiel before they both began to wipe it all off from themselves. In just a few minutes, they were mostly clear of the pink treat. All except for, what Custiel noticed, a slight smudge Michelle missed on her left cheek.

"So, did ya like it?" Michelle suddenly asked before he could mention it to her.

He actually did. Definitely not bad. But he gave a slight shrug, "Not the _best stuff ever_, but it was alright."

She huffed a giggle, "So ya love fish fingers and custard, but ya think cheesepie is alright. _Okay_."

"What, you remember that?" Custiel's eyebrows raised very slightly.

"Of course I remember. How could I not remember? Ya ate that stuff like 24/7."

Custiel pressed his lips together in a growing smile, a small laugh escaping through his nose. There was a small sense of happiness that surrounded him at that. _She never forgot._

"Was it hard adjusting to life in America?" Custiel asked suddenly, flicking a bit of extra icing off his shirt sleeve. He just settled for rolling both of them up to his elbows.

Michelle considered this for a moment as she folded the dirtied dish towels onto the counter, "A little. I didn't have any friends for a while."

She paused, moving over to the sink where she turned the faucet on and began washing her hands, "Wish ya would've been there." Turning the water off, she moved to dry her hands then looked back to him, "Or that I didn't have to move away at all."

Custiel grew silent as he watched her, remembering the day when she told him she was moving. It was a hard day. Probably among the worst days of his childhood. And that was saying quite a long. Giving a small sigh, Custiel stepped closer to her, slowly reaching forward with his right hand. He used his thumb to brush past the smudge of icing still left on her cheek, wiping it off.

"Wish I could've been there, too," he finally said, the tip of his thumb lingering for a moment more before he pulled it away, a bit embarrassed at the action. He tried to recover, "Sorry. Icing." He lifted his thumb up to show what he'd removed, "You, ah… Missed a... Spot…"

He could've sworn he was blushing. He wouldn't be surprised if he were. But Michelle started to look just as flustered as he was. His thoughts then got pushed to an odd sort of place in this moment. What would they have been if she never moved? What if she stayed? Would their friendship have made it through high school? He even wondered if they could've been something more. As they stood here, watching one another now in a strangely comfortable silence, he began to think more and more it wouldn't have been so impossible. But was it impossible now? He didn't know.

They're both soon taken out of this moment as Michelle gives a bashful laugh, "By the way, it's still your pick for the film."

"Right, film," he gave a quick nod, swallowing a bit roughly and trying to fight the rush of blood to his face.

"Completely your choice. And if Tenth doesn't like the film, well that's too bad for him. No punctuality points for him," Michelle said playfully.

That got a laugh out of Custiel, much to his pleasure, "What have you got to choose from?"

"Netflix," she nearly beamed as she nodded toward the living room, the moderately-sized flat screen just a few feet away from where they stood in the threshold of the kitchen. "Go on and choose. I'll order the pizza. Tenth should be here soon."

He'd practically completely forgotten about Tenth coming. He resisted the urge to exhale the biggest sigh of annoyance and gave her a smile and a small salute, "Right. 'M on it."

Custiel moved over to her telly, turning it on with the nearby remote and selecting the Netflix app on the menu. After loading it up, he began scrolling through the many films onscreen, not really paying much attention. He stepped back and sat down onto the black leather couch against the opposite wall. His mind began to dread the arrival of Tenth, knowing that once he arrived, things would just go downhill.

His time with Michelle had been perfect so far. It was like she'd never left at all. Custiel had heard somewhere that if two people that are really in tune with one another are separated for an extended period, they can still interact again after being apart like no time at all had passed. And isn't that just what they'd done? What they would continue to do if his brother didn't show up?

For whatever it was worth, he was glad he came for this much. He just wished it could go on and this day could be as he originally thought it would be. Just _them._

"Monty Python and the Holy Grail? Ya want to watch that one?"

Custiel's thoughts were interrupted by Michelle's question, his head whipping over to her with slight confusion. But he didn't choose… _Oh._ As he looked back to the telly, he could see why she said that. It looks like he accidentally selected it without realizing, his mind too lodged in thought to notice.

"Ah," he began, not at all willing to admit what his mind was on about. "Yeah, you've seen it, haven't you?"

Michelle gave a small giggle, "Of course I have. I just didn't expect ya to choose that one."

He'd seen it too. It was a decent enough film, so it wasn't the worst choice. Custiel simply gave a slightly nervous laugh and a shrug, "Felt up for a bit of comedy."

Michelle seemed okay with it. She made her way over to the couch, sitting herself down next to him on it.

Crossing one leg over the other, she noted, "Pizza should be here in about 30 minutes or so."

Which 30 minutes sounded like quite a long while. But in reality, when it was spent trading stories about when they were younger, it certainly flew by. Especially when it included trying to remember and practice their old 'secret handshake' they had. They eventually gave up, deeming it a bit too dorky to continue. And then Michelle told Custiel about her own adventures over in Texas, which Custiel would trade off with his own here back in London.

All too soon, the pizza arrived, Michelle had prepared three cups of tea, and now all there was left to wait for was Tenth. And Custiel was really in no mood to wait for that.

"C'mon, we can just start without him," Custiel urged, that pizza honestly smelling really good. "Remember what you said? He doesn't get punctuality points?"

Michelle was adamant, "He'll be here soon enough! Ya are just as impatient as ever, ya know that?"

There was a playful whine, "Michelle-"

"No," she interrupted. "We're waitin'."

Custiel turned to face her more properly, trying to give her his best puppy eyes, "Today was originally just gonna be us, so why should we wait? C'mon, Michelle, _please?_"

Michelle bit her lower lip slightly, the puppy eyes an obvious attempt, but she found herself a bit conflicted. She opened her mouth to respond, perhaps more denial, perhaps giving in, but a few knocks at the door stopped her short. She turned her attention to the door just as Custiel internally groaned. That had to be Tenth.

"Well, he's here now," she said as she got up and shot a victorious smile his way. "So looks like I win."

Custiel forced a smile onto his features as she answered the door, his body leaning back into the cushion of the couch. He rested his elbow on the armrest of the couch and his head on his knuckles, just barely fighting back the look of annoyance from his face. The need to fight it back only increased when they shared a hug. One-armed from her though, he noted.

"Tenth! Glad ya made it," Michelle said cheerfully, smiling brightly. "Custiel was wantin' to start without ya, so good thing ya got here when ya did."

Did she have to tell him about _that_? Oh, no. Wait. He _wanted_ him to hear that. Good on you, Michelle.

Tenth chuckled as he stole a glance Custiel's way, "Of course he did. He's impatient. Always has been. Sorry that took a while, traffic was _not_ kind."

Custiel focused on drilling his eyes into the telly, slowly even losing his appetite for the pizza that wafted its scent throughout the flat. He just barely noted Tenth's appearance – a long-sleeved blue shirt with the top buttons undone to show another red shirt beneath and denim jeans –and he immediately wished he could throw some of that cheesecake on him just for the hell of it.

"It's alright. You're here now, that's what matters," she confirmed with a smile. "Pizza's here and Custiel chose Monty Python and the Holy Grail to watch. Ya don't mind?"

So much for Tenth having to just deal with whatever Custiel chose. But it didn't really surprise him. Michelle was considerate like that and he knew it.

Tenth shone a very toothy grin as he slid his hands within his pockets, "_Nah_, 'course I don't mind! Monty Python! Brilliant! Love a good Monty Python film."

By how little Tenth seemed to be even paying attention to Custiel, he must not have quite been over their call earlier. Although he didn't seem as bothered by it as Custiel was.

Michelle was just even more pleased, "Great, let's start then, yeah?"

Starting the movie wasn't so bad. Then Custiel had something to focus on other than Tenth sitting on the other side of Michelle. She'd decided to sit between them on the couch, so he supposed it could've been worse. He could've been sat next to Tenth. It would've been much harder to ignore him then. It was enough that being with him in the same room made him lose most of his hunger for the pizza. He'd barely had a single slice before he got fed up. And the fact that Tenth wouldn't stop throwing out useless trivia about the film didn't help either.

"Did you know they actually couldn't afford real horses, so that's where the coconuts came in?"

"That picture of 'God' is actually a photograph of cricketer W.G. Grace."

"There were supposed to be more police investigation scenes, but they were cut."

"Another scene they cut was Arthur and his knights end up finding the Holy Grail at Harrods."

Perhaps all these wouldn't be so bad if Michelle just kinda shrugged them off. But she seemed to really enjoy them. She was possibly even paying more attention to Tenth than she was the film. She came to the point she was asking him for more trivia. _More_ of the useless stuff.

"We get it, you know a lot 'bout the film, but can we just _watch_ it," Custiel cut in sharply, probably cutting Tenth off. He didn't know if he actually cut him off or not. He really couldn't care less if he did. Better if he did, in his opinion.

Custiel felt a sudden sort of jab at his side, causing him to finally look away from the screen to Michelle. She gave him small look of offense, reprimanding him after elbowing him, "Custiel, don't be so rude. Ya don't like that kinda stuff?"

"I think he's just jealous he hasn't got as much knowledge as I do," Tenth said, almost quite smugly.

Custiel glared at him sideways, "No, I'd just rather watch without you constantly talking."

To which this statement wasn't very effective. After a time, Tenth returned back to spewing his trivia. Useless fact after useless fact, Custiel thought he might never stop. He thought he would do this throughout the whole entire thing. It was a fate he was beginning to resign himself to just bear through. Didn't Michelle find him annoying at all? Oh, no, of course not. He was Tenth. No one found him annoying except his little brother. He could tell that she was enjoying it by how much closer she was leaning toward Tenth than him.

Then a miracle. The sound of Tenth's mobile sounded and as he answered, he stood, "Yeah. Alright, I'll be right there."

Michelle looked up at him, "Everything alright?"

"Yeah," he confirmed with a small nod her way. "Just got called in to work. They need me. Sorry, but I've got to go."

"Oh," Michelle sounded a bit sad at this, which was the completely opposite of how Custiel was feeling then. "Well, okay. It's alright, I understand."

She then stood and made her way to the door along with him. Custiel watched carefully, perhaps a smile on his features at his having to leave. It just meant more time alone with Michelle. And he was completely okay with that.

"Ya be careful, yea?" Michelle said as she opened the door for him.

Tenth gave her a warm smile and leaned forward, closing the distance between them and placing a kiss to her cheek. As if that wasn't enough to make Custiel's smile fade, he lingered. Perhaps longer than he should've.

"Always am," he confirmed as he pulled away, that smile still staining his stupid face. It obviously left Michelle a bit speechless as she just barely waved goodbye to him. And not once did Tenth say goodbye to Custiel, but he knew, he absolutely knew, Custiel saw that. And he didn't like it one bit.

Michelle came back to sit down on the couch, redness still just barely noticeable on her features. Custiel couldn't stay silent anymore. He turned to face her, his voice sharp and demanding, "What's going on."

Obviously confused, Michelle looks over to him, "I'm sorry?"

"You 'n him, is there anything going on between you two?"

She's quite clearly taken aback by his sudden question and tone, but she shakes her head after a moment of pause, "No, not really… Why-"

"Not really," he repeated, growing a little more heated at the possibility. "Not really, what does that mean?"

"Custiel," her eyebrows furrowed. "What's this about?"

Custiel gave a short sigh, "You should stop seeing Tenth."

Michelle's features quickly formed into something like offense and like she couldn't believe what he was saying, "What the hell's gotten into ya, Custiel? I thought ya said he was a _great guy._"

"Did I?" Of course he did, but he absolutely didn't mean it. "Not sure I meant it. He's not really a great guy and I don't think you should see him anymore." His tone was growing more heated, much more rushed and angry.

"Excuse me," Michelle interjected as she moved away from him somewhat, growing more frustrated. "But ya can't tell me who I can and can't see!"

"_There're better guys to be seeing!_" He nearly shouts, losing his temper. Combining everything that had happened this week, that kiss to her cheek just sent him over the edge.

Michelle is nearly incredulous as she yells back, "_Like who?!_"

"_Like-!_"

_Me._

What was he doing? Ruining everything, that's what he was doing. He was letting all the jealousy take over, letting himself lose his temper. He always did have a quick temper when pushed too far. But luckily his temper was never long lasting. He could already feel himself regretting every word he'd just said. Why did he let everything get to him?

Michelle was still watching him expectantly, her face contorted into frustration. "Custiel, what is this about? _Really?_" she urged, trying to understand more than anything.

"I'm sorry," Custiel began with a mumble and a small shake of his head. "I should go."

Michelle's features quickly formed away from frustration and mixed into areas of worry, "I don't understand, what-"

Before she could continue Custiel was on his feet and heading toward the door. She, of course, followed quickly and caught his arm. He stopped and swiftly turned to her as she protested, "Please, Custiel, just-"

"No, I screwed this up, I should just leave," he tugged his arm out of her grip and was to the door. Michelle just watched on, not stopping him this time. He looked back very slightly, "I'm sorry."

And with that, he was gone with no idea how he was even going to begin fixing what just happened back there.


	5. Mending

He'd messed up. He'd messed up big time, and he absolutely knew it. It plagued him like a terrible disease of guilt, riding on his conscience like a dark passenger that reminded him at every turn of his terrible outburst. What _was_ that? Why did he let everything get to him then? Of all places and days. He could've spent the rest of the day alone with Michelle, but after that? He just ruined it for himself and especially for her. Custiel felt like this may have been the end. As over dramatic as that sounded, but he couldn't help thinking the absolute worst of it.

He was completely in the wrong. Yet as Michelle called him later that Friday, he couldn't bring himself to answer. He could barely even face himself and his guilt-ridden mind, let alone saying anything to her. Was he being a coward? Probably. But he had no qualms admitting that.

"Custiel? Call me back so can talk. Please? Just… Call me back when ya can."

He'd listened to that message probably well over a hundred times, each seeming to drive home the nail of guilt in not only his mind but his heart. It was heavy and he could barely get out of bed Saturday. And even when he did, attempting to do some extra work, he'd just find himself playing that message on repeat.

Michelle's voice was filled with an unmistakable unease, a hint of worry, and perhaps a little of confusion. She had every right to those emotions. Except perhaps worry. He didn't deserve that one. Each time he listened to the message, he tried to formulate an explanation. Every time, he simply came up empty. He didn't even know why he did what he did. But he couldn't avoid her forever.

Sunday had to be the day. He'd put it off long enough. He was surprised she didn't try to call back again. He had to wonder if maybe she just didn't want to talk to him. Not that he'd blame her. But he couldn't leave things like this anymore.

Custiel found himself pacing in his living room, mobile in his hands. He was fumbling with it, trying to form some sort of plan for what to say.

"Hey, Michelle, about Friday. My brother pisses me off, so y'know…" he tried out loud, trailing off as he realized that wouldn't work.

He tried again, "Can we pretend like Friday didn't happen? So how's your weekend been?" Groaning, he hit himself on the forehead with his phone and grumbled, "Argh! No, no, that's absolutely _stupid._"

Giving a sigh, he pulled the device away, looking to the lit up screen. He'd had Michelle's number selected for the good portion of ten minutes now. All he had to do was press dial and then the weekend-long silence would end. Hopefully… With just one last moment of hesitation, he pressed call.

Stepping over to the column just by the threshold of his kitchen, he leaned against it, his free hand nervously fidgeting by his side as he put the mobile to his ear. _One ring… Two rings… Three rings… Four…_

"Hello?"

Custiel could feel knots immediately forming in his stomach as she answered, her tone full of an odd expectancy. He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came. The silence stretched on.

After another moment of silence, Michelle asked, "Custiel? Are ya there?"

"Y-yeah, 'm here. Sorry, I ah… Didn't hear you answer." Terrible excuse, but he'd gotten through the hard part of beginning the conversation. "Listen, d'you think we could talk? In person, I mean."

"Sure," Michelle agreed, her tone holding a slight hope to it. "Yea, we can. Where do ya wanna meet?"

Custiel looked to the clock on his wall above the telly, realizing it was just past noon. "Ah, Foxcroft 'n Ginger?" he offered. "I'll buy you lunch. If that's alright with you."

"Yea, that sounds great. I'll meet ya there in an hour?"

"Yeah, yeah," Custiel gave a few nods as he shoved his hand within his pocket, trying to stop it from fidgeting. "In an hour. See you there."

"See ya," she returned.

Custiel pulled the mobile away from him after a slight hesitation, trying to decode her overall tone during that conversation. But he honestly couldn't. At least she didn't sound completely angry with him. Otherwise there would've been a lot more sarcastic and snippy responses. Hanging up, Custiel decided he'd get ready now.

Wanting to look like he hadn't spent the entire weekend in a complete moping slump, he popped into the shower then got dressed – a plain dark blue shirt and faded grey jeans. After tying his boots on, he's reaching for his pea coat hanging beside his desk (a cold front had apparently come through today) then his attention was caught by a piece of paper still sitting out on his desk.

Pulling the pea coat on, he noticed his drawing of Tricey, the very one he'd been drawing when he'd first met Michelle, was staring at him with eyes far too big and misshapen. A smile threatened to tug at his lips as he grabbed the paper and slid it into his coat pocket, hoping that maybe it could help his case. He wasn't sure how, but maybe it would some way.

After making sure he had his wallet, he was out the door. Foxcroft & Ginger was just a few blocks away from his flat, making little to no need to catch a cab there. As he walked along the sidewalk, he kept his hands within his pockets, glad to have brought his pea coat after all. The grey skies above sent chilled winds through the streets of London and currently Custiel's only comfort was the picture of Tricey he fumbled with in his pocket. How would this conversation end? How would it even _begin_ for that matter? He could only hope for the best.

All too soon, he was entering the small establishment, the air immediately feeling a bit warmer than it was outside. He picked an empty table, somewhere near a corner, and sat, looking to his watch. Seems he arrived a bit sooner than in an hour. As he sat there at the small table, he thought of maybe ordering some tea or something before she arrived. Just anything to calm his nerves. But he figured it would be better to just wait. He almost wished he'd made himself some tea today. Now that he thought of it, he hadn't had any tea since _Friday…_

His thoughts were interrupted as his attention turned to the figure stepping through the entrance; right away he recognized it was Michelle. Her hair was done up in a high ponytail, some of her bangs swinging loosely around her sharp features, and she wore a black blazer coat over a light brown turtle neck with black skinny jeans. Custiel tentatively waved her over as she looked about the place, her face lighting up in recognition when her eyes landed on him.

Placing her purse on the ground, she sat in the seat across from him, neither of them saying anything at first. Michelle watched him expectantly, and Custiel returned the same look, the sounds of soft music and other customers seeming drowned out by the tense silence between them.

"I'll, ah… Order our food. What d'you want?" Custiel finally said as he stood, hoping this would be a good place to start. If there even _was_ a good place to start.

Michelle nodded, "Braised beef and Earl Grey tea."

Custiel nodded right back, stepping up to the counter and ordering their food – he got the herb chicken burger with English breakfast tea himself. After paying, he stood off to the side, waiting for their order to be finished. His eyes were moving from the window view of the street and back to Michelle every so often, watching her carefully as he did so. He still had no idea how he was even going to begin. But he supposed he could take it as a good sign she even showed up.

Finally their meals were done and he brought them back to their table, placing her food and drink near her before sitting back down himself. He was eager to down some of his tea, and that was the first thing he did, hoping it would help him miraculously come up with something. Although it didn't really. He tried his best not to make eye contact with Michelle, but as they ate, he found his eyes wandering to her more often than not.

With his food half finished, he took another sip of his tea, and upon setting it down, plainly said, "I'm sorry."

Michelle seemed to be taken a bit off guard by this sudden apology, stopping in mid-chew before she swallowed, watching him carefully and attentively. He gave a sigh, head dropping just slightly before he looked back up to her.

"I'm sorry," he restated, this time not so sudden. "I don't know what happened Friday. And I'm so… So sorry."

Her features weren't clouded by anything except maybe a hint of confusion, "What was that _about_, Custiel? Where did that come from all of a sudden?"

What _was_ it about? He didn't know himself. Not really. He rested his elbows on the table, folding his hands together before his mouth, "It was a rough week, 'n I just… Let everything get to me. I just think the stress made me… On edge."

Michelle continued to watch him expectantly, almost like she wanted him to go on. So he tried.

"'N maybe I, dunno… Feel protective over you," he finally said, the statement surprising even him a bit. Michelle even more so surprised, her eyebrows knitting together somewhat. "I mean, I just… Don't want you to get hurt."

"I can handle myself, ya know," Michelle said a bit defensively, her expression seeming to indicate there was still some confusion there.

Custiel was quick to try and recover, a bit embarrassed by his admittance, "Oh, I know, I know you can, s'just…"

Michelle went on as he trailed off, "Why does it seem ya don't like Tenth? I thought ya said ya two got along."

There was no way in hell he'd ever admit to the very reasons why _'getting along'_ was the polar opposite of their relationship. It just wasn't something he wanted Michelle to ever have to deal with. Even when they were younger, he was very particular about not letting her be privy to his problems with his brother and father. And he didn't want to start now. He should be over these kinds of things by now at this age. He hated to admit that this wasn't the case so long as Tenth continued to try and worm his way into his life. He was just reopening old wounds.

But he couldn't shrug it off and lie either. Michelle definitely saw that there was something wrong between them and he knew she was smart enough to figure out quickly if he was lying.

"Tenth 'n I have never really…" He paused for a moment, fishing for the right words that weren't complete lies. "Seen eye to eye. On a lot of things." Custiel was almost proud of himself for coming up with something that wasn't a total fib.

Michelle folded her arms in her lap, her shoulders rising a bit, "Can't ya try to work things out with him?"

She couldn't even begin to understand how much that couldn't work. But he couldn't fault her for it, he supposed. It wasn't like he was giving her much to go off of.

"I'd just," Custiel began with a small shake of his head, eyes averting slightly. "Rather not."

She seemed somewhat upset by that in a frustrated way, "Ya can't at least try?"

Oh, he's tried. He's given a lifetime to trying. "Michelle, I dunno if that could really work…"

"Please?" Michelle pleaded, her features softening slightly into a form of worry. "Ya both are my friends and I'd rather ya two try to get along."

She was asking so much more than she realized. And he almost hated that she practically pulled the _'do it for me'_ card. Because dammit all, that was beginning to work. She could ask him to do virtually anything as it was, but if it involved that _'do it for me'_ sentiment, then he was unstoppable. He absolutely did _not_ want to even try getting along with Tenth. But with Michelle practically begging him to with her big blue eyes and that pleading, beautiful face of hers, declining was just an impossibility.

Custiel rubbed his hand over his eyes, squeezing them shut before giving a sigh and looking to her once more, "Okay. Okay, fine, fine, you win. But… Are we okay? D'you accept my apology?"

Michelle immediately seemed pleased, a small smile threatening the corners of her lips for the first time he'd seen that day, "Yea. We're okay."

He slowly returned the smile, overwhelmed with happiness to hear that. He'd dreaded this talk the entire weekend and now that it came, he felt like all that time spent worrying was just wasteful. He always was one to make things out worse than they really were.

"I want to make it up to you," Custiel said with a new determination in his eyes and smile. "So how 'bout I owe you one favor. Doesn't matter what it is or when, you say the word, 'n it's done. Sound good?"

Michelle seemed to consider it playfully, "Ooh, that sounds like an offer I just can't refuse. Ya got yourself a deal. I'm gonna hold ya to that."

Custiel chuckled and gave a nod, "Good, I look forward to that."

They soon returned to their meals, a much more comfortable silence washing over them as they finished. All the weight of guilt that had covered Custiel throughout the weekend felt as though it'd been completely lifted. Although, in its place, was the weight of the idea he'd have to at least attempt mending his relationship with Tenth. Which, in all honesty, he knew was impossible. But he only had to _try,_ not particularly _succeed_ to make Michelle happy.

As Michelle pushed her plate back, now empty, she asked, "So, Custiel, are ya plannin' to make it to Rory's stag party?"

Custiel quickly swallowed the mouthful of tea at her question, not expecting that at all. "Ah," he began, not sure what to say. "How'd you know 'bout that?"

Michelle gave him a skeptical look, almost like he should've already known the answer to that, "He told me that he invited ya."

"Oh," he gave a small nod, not expecting Rory to have mentioned it at all to her, but not surprised that they were still talking. Why wouldn't they be? He gave a bit of an absent nod, "Yeah, that's the plan, I 'spose."

"And you're bringin' Tenth along?" she pressed intentionally, eyebrows rising expectantly at him.

A small sigh escaped his lips, his expression riddled with reluctance, "Well…"

She looked to be somewhat deflated at his response, "_Come on_, why not? It'd be a good chance to work on things with him, yea?"

"Yeah, I guess it could…" Custiel trailed off once more, finding himself slumping back within his seat.

Michelle watched him with an oddly desperate expression as she leaned forward, her tone soft, "Custiel, I can't pretend to know what happened between the two of ya, but this really could be a great thing for both of ya to go to. It's a party, ya could have a lot of fun."

Custiel knew she was genuinely trying. Her encouraging voice and words were proof enough of that. Crossing his arms over his chest, he pursed his lips tightly, his features screwing up into indecision. He tilted his head back before rolling it forward again.

"Blimey, Michelle, you've got a lot of power over me, y'know that?" Custiel gave in with a sigh. "Alright, alright, I'll… _Think_ 'bout it."

Well, so much for his plan of just not asking Tenth and lying to Rory about it. Michelle seemed delighted that he caved, a victorious smile brightening up her face, "Ya better."

"So what've you got planned for the rest of the day," Custiel asked, trying to steer the conversation away from any topic of Tenth.

She shrugged a bit, "Just some intern stuff. What about ya?"

At the return of the question, Custiel realized he actually had an appointment at the hair dresser. Looking at his wrist watch, he was surprised to find that they'd already spent a full hour here and that if he didn't leave soon, he might miss his appointment.

"Ah, blimey, I've got a haircut appointment in thirty.

Michelle's eyebrows rose, "Oh! Well, don't let me hold ya up, ya better get going then."

With that, they both stood from their seats and headed back out into the cold London air. Custiel was a bit sad that their time together had already come to a close, but it ended much better than it had Friday. So that was a plus he had to appreciate.

As Custiel shoved his hand into his coat pocket, he felt the piece of paper brush against his fingers, "_Oh_, right, Michelle. I actually brought you something you might like to see."

Michelle blinked a few times, obviously not expecting this. Her expression lit up even more as he pulled the heavily crinkled paper out from his pocket, handing it to her. As she took it, she covered her mouth and let out a laugh, "_Oh my God!_ Is this what I think it is?!"

"Depends. What d'you think it is?" Custiel asked as he chuckled.

"It _still_ looks like a blob," Michelle finally managed before another giggle graced her lips.

Custiel couldn't help but let out another laugh at that, "Oi, don't knock him! Tricey's your proof that I owe you a favor. 'N if you can make fun of my drawing, I get to make fun of your cheese_pie._"

She seemed almost appalled at that as she looked back to him, "That's not fair!"

"Totally fair," he countered, grinning smugly.

She lightly swat his shoulder with the paper, "Okay, fine, ya win. I won't make fun of Tricey."

Without warning, Michelle wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him to her in a tight hug. He readily accepted her hug, both of his long arms holding her form close for the moment. Michelle's hugs were always something that warmed him at his very core, sending a pure happiness throughout his entire being. Their hug lasted for just a moment longer before she pulled away, Custiel letting go just as she did.

Her arms were still lightly draped about him, one of her hands pulling back to brush a part of his fringe from his forehead, "Ya shouldn't get your hair cut too much. I like it as it kinda is now."

Custiel's thin eyebrows rose somewhat, the beginnings of a blush beginning to creep along his pores. A smile began to play at his lips as he thought of Tenth's hair and how short it was. He couldn't help but compare and wonder if Michelle maybe liked his hair better than Tenth's. He liked to think by the comment she just made that she does. And that certainly did wonders for his mood.

"Alright," he agreed with a small nod. "I'll just get it trimmed, then."

Michelle seemed pleased as she pulled away from him fully, "Hey, so, on Tuesday, I'm gonna be giving my first tour of the National Gallery. Any chance ya could make it? Moral support kinda thing?"

She seemed a little apprehensive about asking, and Custiel wondered if she was more nervous about that than she was letting on. He definitely wouldn't say no to that.

"What time?"

Michelle bit her lip somewhat, "Starts at 2:45?"

That wasn't good. Custiel was still going to be at work himself at that time. But maybe, just maybe, he could pull some strings and get Ida to let him go early. Maybe if he did double the work tonight and put even more effort forward on tomorrow, she'd consider it.

Custiel gave a nod with a warm smile, "I'll be there. Promise."

A large smile found its way on Michelle's features at his answer, her form bouncing up and down slightly at the confirmation, "Great! I'll see ya there. Now go get your haircut already! Don't want ya to be late."

As if suddenly remembering, Custiel agreed, "Ah! Right, haircut. See you on Tuesday, Michelle."

Michelle began to walk off, waving to him with a smile as he waved to her, "See ya, Custiel."

Custiel was reluctant to turn away, but he knew he couldn't stay here any longer. So he turned and headed in the opposite direction, knowing if he kept a good pace, he could still possibly make it on time. As he walked, his mind began to wander to their conversation. He couldn't even begin to express just how _happy_ he was that things worked out and they were alright. Just two days ago, he thought he might have ruined things between them completely.

But he should've known better than that. They'd been friends for what felt like a lifetime now. Even if it was only 3 years, it felt so much longer. Perhaps it was because they'd spent nearly every moment of their possible free time together. Playing together, hanging out, and sitting together during class. So much time was spent together with her that Tenth couldn't possibly come close to. He'd only just met Michelle when Custiel knew her inside and out. And this was one advantage that Tenth would _never_ have. He could feel the smile growing on his face from such a fact.

* * *

Just like he said he would, Custiel didn't let the hair dresser take much off his hair. Just a trim, as he promised. The back of his hair didn't stick out as much as before and his fringe was a bit shorter, but there wasn't much of a difference. Noticeable enough, but still roughly the same length.

Upon arriving back to his flat, Custiel then remembered the little detail of Michelle and his conversation they'd shared and that was to try and repair things with Tenth. He felt an internal groan at this, not at all wanting to even attempt doing such a thing. But like he mentioned, Michelle had power over him. And this was her power at work.

After pressing dial on Tenth's number, Custiel flopped down onto his couch, laying his body on the cushions. One of his arms covered his eyes as he listened to the dial tone drone on. After a few rings, there was an answer.

"Hello?"

"Hey, can you talk?" Custiel asked, wanting to get straight to the point.

There was a slight pause before the confirmation, "I've got a minute, yeah. Need something?"

Custiel couldn't tell much from Tenth's tone as it didn't sound annoyed or anything of the sort. It just sounded like he was mildly unphased. He continued anyway, "I wanted to talk to you 'bout Friday."

"What about it?" Tenth pressed, almost like there was nothing special about it.

"_What about it?_" Custiel repeated. "You say that like nothing happened."

There was almost a shrug in Tenth's nonchalant voice, "You threw a pouty fit, but it's not like there's anything new about that, now is there?"

Custiel could feel his free hand clenching, his eyes screwing shut even more despite his arms still laid over them, "I wanted to…" Tell him off, that's exactly what he wanted to do. But that's not what Michelle wanted. "Apologize. I'm sorry."

"You're _apologizing?_" Tenth asked, a terribly sarcastic and mockingly shocked tone about his words. "You're actually apologizing? Now that's definitely something new. Is this some new resolution you came to overnight? Or am I missing something?"

Custiel didn't bother hiding the frustrated sigh that left his mouth, "You can either take it or bloody leave it."

A light laugh came from the other end, "Oi, alright, alright, no need to get all huffy, Custiel. I'll take it. So when're you coming to see my flat?"

"What?" Custiel asked suddenly, the subject change quite abrupt.

"I said-"

"No, I _know_ what you said, just… Why d'you want me to come see your flat so badly?" Custiel had a good idea, and it was probably to show off.

Tenth sounded almost offended, "_What?_ I can't spend time with my brother? Is that so wrong?"

"That was never the case when we were growing up," came the immediate and automatic rebuttal.

There was a slight pause from Tenth before he responded, "Blimey, there you go, you're just turning this into a repeat of last I was at your flat. I don't think either of us want that."

He wanted so many things and that was possibly one of them. But he supposed he was right. He was trying to mend things and this sort of back and forth wasn't the way to do it.

Custiel sighed, "Fine, you're right. Never mind. I'll talk to you later."

Tenth barely got a goodbye in before Custiel hung up, letting his arm hang off the side of the couch, mobile falling onto the floor. There was an audible groan from his throat as he continued to lay there, staring at the ceiling, hating this idea of trying to repair things between him and Tenth more and more. He even completely forgot to ask him about Rory's stag. Oh well. He still had a week left to bring it up. Or avoid it. One or the other, he'd figure it out eventually.

Deciding he'd better get some work done early, especially if he's going to make it to Michelle's museum tour, he bolted up and brewed himself some tea. He'll really need it to work through the rest of the day. And even though this weekend had started out in a completely sour tone, it ended on a slightly better one. Much better than he'd expected at all.


	6. Altercation

Arriving early for work on a Monday was never one of Custiel's favorite things. It just meant he'd have to spend more time than necessary with Ida. But when he had the goal of making it to see Michelle's first museum tour, he could take this necessary evil in stride. He could possibly do it without cringing at every order she would throw his way. Maybe he'd even do it with half a smile. There was no need for her to order him to get coffee; it was already sitting there on her desk the moment she walked in. As did all the work he'd done the day before.

She was, obviously, taken aback at this unexpected attentiveness to his work. It caused comments such as, "Taking the advice I gave you last week, I see." To which he could only nod and agree at, when really there were ulterior motives. Ida thought that he was finally getting his act together to save his job. And really, that was definitely a plus, but he just desperately didn't want to let Michelle down. Suppose that really exposed his priorities on some level.

As Monday drew to a close and he'd just clocked out, he brought out the question of whether he could leave early the next day or not. There was some slight debate from her and Custiel could probably attribute her lingering on the question at all to his boost in performance today. Whether she realized or not said extra effort was because he wanted to get off early, he couldn't tell. After another moment of slight debate, she agreed only on the condition that he would catch her diary up to speed before he came into work tomorrow. Which, of course, he completely agreed to.

As soon as he arrived home, he spent the rest of his Monday working on exactly that. He'd already been working toward finishing this task for a while, but this was just the right push he needed to completely finish it. And when Tuesday morning came, he was all too eager to show her all the work he did.

"Alright, Lungbarrow," Ida began after a long few moments of looking over the work he'd accomplished, her slender fingers pulling her thin glasses from her nose. "Everything looks to be in order. You may leave after lunch."

Custiel could feel the largest smile begin to creep along his lips, "Thank you, Ida, thank you-"

"But," she interjected sharply, cutting into that smile of his. "This will not become a usual thing. Got it?"

"Got it," Custiel confirmed with a nod.

"Now get me coffee. Black."

The rest of the day, Custiel could feel himself bustling with nervous and excited energy. He'd done it. He was, quite frankly, spent from all the extra work he'd done, but it was well worth it. He was beginning to think that maybe he wouldn't be able to do it. But he was stubbornly determined and that got him right where he wanted to be.

With so much work done, there was little to actually do throughout the day except maybe take a few calls. But that was little in comparison to the usual. And while it seemed the day dragged until lunch came around, he could finally leave.

Checking his watch as he exited Mile Recruitments, it was just after noon, which left him plenty of time to get to the National Museum even without taking a cab. He didn't want anything to get in the way of seeing her first tour. Not after all the work he'd put into getting to this point. After a moment of debate whether he should go back to his flat first to change out of his suit and tie, he decided against it, wanting to make sure he'd be completely on time. Even if he was a little early, that just meant maybe he could spend a little extra time with Michelle. That was always a plus to him.

As he began his walk to the museum, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his mobile. He figured he may as well let Michelle know he was going to be showing up early. So he sent a text her way:

_Just got off work and I'm coming a bit early. Hope you don't mind :)_

He almost didn't expect a reply, knowing she might've been a bit too busy to even answer. But as he turned a corner, the National Museum coming into view, his phone buzzed:

_I don't mind at all. Can't wait to see you :)_

Michelle's response prompted quite the unrestrained grin from Custiel as he began up the concrete steps, nearly even tripping over one or two because he'd been so focused on his mobile. Deciding it would be a good idea to not fall, he pocketed his mobile once more and continued up the steps.

There were a surprisingly small amount of people out today, which was a bit odd to Custiel. This place usually always had people coming and going, tourists and citizens alike. But perhaps he could attribute it to being the middle of a weekday. Whatever the cause, he wouldn't complain.

Entering the large building, Custiel looked around at the expansive place, having only been here once before. He wasn't necessarily a museum goer, although he found them to be just as interesting as the next person. Especially the huge dinosaur skeleton that greeted him in the first room. As he came to a stop before the display, looking up and trying to remember if there was possibly the skeleton of a triceratops around (still one of his favorite dinosaurs, if he had to be honest), he heard a familiar voice calling to him.

"Custiel!"

Custiel's head whipped to his left, seeing Michelle quickly approaching him. Well that was easier than he expected. He had a slight worry in the back of his mind that it might've been a bit difficult to find her in such a huge place. But suppose he was proven otherwise. Another smile, not unlike the one he'd had when she texted him, lit up his features as she stepped closer to him.

"Hey, Michelle, there you are," he said before she brought him into a warm hug, the embrace lasting only a second before she pulled away again. "You ah… You look great."

She was wearing what looked like a slim fitting suit with a tie, a silver tag that had her name and 'student intern' written on it attached to her jacket. Her hair was down in its usual waves, complimenting her dark suit quite nicely. He supposed they somewhat matched and that fact silently amused him somewhat.

She gave a small bashful laugh, "Thank ya. Ya don't look so bad yourself. Love the haircut."

Custiel could hardly imagine that was true. He'd just got off work; how could he ever look remotely good when Ida Lorrie was his boss? He took the compliment with a smile anyway, "Thanks. Just a trim, as promised."

Michelle gave a small giggle, "Glad ya remembered."

"So, the tour. Doesn't mean the whole museum, right?" Custiel began, trying to keep the conversation up best he could.

Michelle shook her head slightly, "No, of course not the _whole_ museum. That'd be way too much for one person, especially me." She paused, tilting her head slightly in the direction she came, "Come on, I'll show ya."

Smile never diminishing, he followed her as she turned on her heel and began walking. As they walked through a large corridor, works of art on each side, he spoke, "Not too nervous, are you?"

There was a small pause before Michelle answered, "Nervous? No…"

Custiel didn't believe that for one second. She'd only moved her gaze to him for a second before turning ahead once more. She was obviously trying to hide how untrue her statement was. Even yesterday when she asked him to come, he could see how anxious she was about this.

"Michelle," Custiel started, pausing until she looked back over to him. "Are you sure?"

That got another bit of silence out of her before a passing sigh escaped her lips, "Alright, maybe a little. But I'll be fine. I can do it. Anyway, this is the room."

They soon came to a stop near a sign above a doorway that read 'CENTRAL HALL: Northern Italy 1500-1580'. Just beyond was a large red room with paintings lining the walls, all of different shapes and sizes. There were just a few people within, a mother with her two young boys and a man that looked to be the same age as Custiel standing alone, tilting his head at a painting of a woman.

Custiel returned his attention back to Michelle, still not entirely convinced that she was okay. She still seemed a bit fidgety when she looked at the room. Although she seemed to pick up that he still didn't buy her assurances.

"Custiel, I'll be fine. Really," she reiterated as she looked at him more properly this time, her tone holding sincerity to it. Her lips tugged up very slightly, "Especially since ya came, it'll be even easier. I've been studyin' these paintin's all week. Trust me?"

He was still a bit worried… But he had to take her word for it. Slowly a smile began to crawl along his features as he gave a small nod, "Alright. But anytime you feel like you're having trouble, give me the sign 'n I'll make a distraction for the getaway."

Michelle laughed at that, "And what kinda distraction are we talkin'?"

Custiel shrugged playfully, "I dunno, I'll think of something. Maybe a bird call. I'm best at making stuff up on my feet, y'know."

They each shared a laugh together, Custiel happy to have distracted her from her nervousness, even if for a moment. However as Michelle's attention turned back to the red room for a moment, she suddenly stopped laughing, her attention obviously caught by something. Custiel's laughs soon died down as he looked the direction she was, trying to see what she was looking at.

"Michelle?" Custiel questioned, not quite seeing what she was. "Are you okay?"

Michelle suddenly looked back to him, giving a small nod, "Yea, I'm okay, but just… Wait here a second."

Although confused, Custiel just gave a nod before she walked into the room, heading toward the male that looked their age. He watched carefully, not quite realizing what Michelle was doing at first, but soon understood.

As she approached the man, she caught his attention. Custiel could just barely make out their quiet voices, but from Michelle's gestures, he realized that this man must've been getting too close to the paintings. It seemed at first that he was going to cooperate, stepping back very slightly, but there was something else. Michelle seemed done and ready to walk back to Custiel after giving the warning, but he still seemed to have something to say.

Custiel could feel himself moving a bit closer to attempt to hear what they were saying, but he still couldn't make out their words. That was until Michelle's voice rose very slightly, "I said no. Now please move along, sir."

Almost like the man was determined, he stepped closer to her, to which Michelle backed away. Custiel's eyebrows furrowed as he watched on, starting to get the idea of what this guy was doing, but hoping that Michelle could handle herself here. He remembered how the other day she commented on that, saying she very well could take care of herself without him having to get protective. Despite how much he wanted to get him away from her then.

However it wasn't long before this guy was reaching out, trying to put his hands on her waist, much to Michelle's obvious refusal and pushing away. That was enough for him. Custiel was moving almost on instinct, and within just a few long strides, he was beside them, one hand swiftly, tightly grabbing the other man's upper arm and pushing him away from Michelle.

"Back off, man," Custiel interjected, the other man – shortly styled brunette hair, tight polo with denim jeans, and a bigger build than Custiel – quite offended by this. "She obviously said no."

"Mind your own damn business, twat," he rebutted with a scowl thrown Custiel's way.

Before the other man could come near her again, he stepped between them, blocking Michelle from the douchebag, "Does _no_ just mean _yes_ in your mind? You should leave her alone."

Michelle tried to cut in, stepping to the side just slightly as she gently laid a hand on his arm, "Custiel, it's okay, just-"

The other man stepped closer to Custiel, looking down on him as he was several inches taller, "I'll do whatever I damn well want to. Are you just pissy 'cause she's your skanky little girlfriend? Huh? That it?"

They were beginning to draw attention. Several more visitors had come into the room as their conversation continued, many of the passerbys looking on as Custiel responded a bit louder, clenched fists at his sides, "No, I just think you should learn some sort of _human decency_ and understand the simple meaning of no."

"I'll bet she's a little slut anyway, she's way too pretty to be anything-"

_**Slam. **_

Michelle covered her mouth in surprise as one of Custiel's fists connected to the other man's jaw, sending him stumbling back just a bit. But it didn't deter him. He lunged at Custiel, a growl coming from his mouth as he slammed his own fist into the square of Custiel's face. Before either of them knew it, they were having an altercation right in the middle of an art museum. Not what Custiel had planned for the day at all, but he sure as hell wasn't going to let the guy get away with this.

Adrenaline was rushing through his body, causing him to lunge, duck, dive, and deliver with little effort. Perhaps in the back of his mind, he knew he shouldn't have thrown that first punch at all. He should've just walked away. But his temper had a tendency to overcloud his judgment, especially where Michelle was concerned.

Perhaps if he hadn't been so focused on beating the shit out of the douchebag, he might've heard Michelle urging them to stop. He might've even heard someone calling security. The only thing that brought his mind out of the brawl was two sets of arms roughly grabbing him and dragging him away. It wasn't long before he realized that two men, a part of security, were holding onto him tightly and forcing him to walk.

He complied well enough, knowing he was already in enough trouble without making it worse. He immediately began to regret throwing a fist that guy's way, because as far as he could tell, they were throwing him out. Passing the large dinosaur skeleton, it wasn't long before they reached the entrance and he was shoved out. He stumbled and looked back to the men.

"Do _not_ come back in today," the dark-skinned one said in a gruffly low voice. "You're being let off with a warning. Now beat it."

Turning, both of the security men walked back into the museum. A few people that had been watching as they threw him out were still staring at Custiel, no doubt wondering what had happened to get him thrown out. Still feeling the adrenaline coursing through his body, chest heaving up and down from the exertion, he dug into his pocket to bring out his mobile. He quickly tried to call Michelle, knowing he couldn't step back into the museum to talk to her.

It rang just a few times before going to voicemail. He almost hung up, but decided he'd leave a message, "Michelle." He paused, not realizing how hoarse and shaky his voice was. Clearing his throat, he tried again, "Michelle, I'm… I don't even know where to begin. I'm sorry. They aren't letting me back in. Call me, okay? Call me…"

With that, he pulled his mobile away from him, hanging up. All that work to get here to see her tour… For nothing. God, he was an idiot.

* * *

There was nothing he could really do besides head home. He had a feeling he didn't escape from any kind of injury in that fight. And along the walk home with the adrenaline fading, he could certainly feel that wasn't the case. The other guy got quite a few good hits on him, face and body alike.

Just as he entered his flat, there was a call on his mobile. Thinking it was Michelle, he quickly answered, "Hello? Michelle?"

"No, afraid not," said Tenth, amusement lightly evident in his tone. "Sorry to disappoint. Just me."

Custiel nearly slammed his door shut behind him, "What the hell do you want."

"Catch you at a bad time, did I?" He almost sounded concerned. Almost. "I wanted to know if you were free."

"I'm not in the bloody mood," Custiel snapped, immediately hanging up on Tenth. He had little to no patience to deal with Tenth on top of everything that had happened.

But it seemed Tenth had other, insistent ideas as his mobile began to ring almost immediately after Custiel hung up. Tossing his suit jacket across his bedroom, Custiel answered sharply, "What?!"

"Blimey, what's gotten into you today?"

"I don't want to talk 'bout it," Custiel grudgingly said. "Why do you want to know if I'm free?"

There was a small uplift in Tenth's tone, "I was curious if you'd like to come see my flat today. And I need to talk to you, among other things."

"I'm really not," he paused as he lifted his tie over his head, not bothering to completely undo it, "in the best condition for that."

"What happened?" Tenth asked in what seemed like genuine curiosity. Or as close to genuine as Tenth could get.

Custiel gave a heavy sigh as he unbuttoned his shirt, "I told you, I don't want to talk 'bout it. Stuff happened."

There's a small pause on the other end before, "Are you at your flat? I'm coming over."

Custiel's hand fumbled with a button on his shirt at the sudden info, taken by surprise, "Yes I'm at my flat and no! Don't-"

"I'm coming, Custiel. I need to talk to you," he insisted.

Tenth never seemed to have a problem with inviting himself along. Especially anywhere Custiel was concerned. It seemed that since they were brothers, Tenth was immediately entitled to anything in Custiel's life. Some things just never changed. Not wanting to bother, Custiel just hung up on him, knowing that no matter how much he'd deny, Tenth would still show up if he really wanted to. He had better things to do anyway.

Starting with examining the damage in his bathroom mirror. Finally undoing the last button on his shirt, he removed the long-sleeved garment from himself, although not without difficulty. He was in pain, dreading that it was only going to be worse tomorrow. Grade A Douche must've done much more damage than he'd thought. Custiel could only hope he did the same, if not more, on him.

Turning the light on in his bathroom, he stepped in front of the mirror and immediately the damage was noticeable. No wonder people were staring at him on his way home. There was several reddening spots all along his torso and chest, no doubt they'd turn into bruises in no time at all. But the most attention-catching wounds were on his face. The corner of his lips had been busted and was bleeding onto his chin. There was a similar cut on his right eyebrow, a trickle of blood coming down the side of his face.

But both of these were nothing to the large darkening red spots on his cheek and forehead. Those would leave possibly the worst bruises of the entire lot. He groaned. Not from pain, but from the huge mistake he'd made. He was doing it for the right reasons, surely. He was protecting Michelle.

"_I can handle myself, ya know."_

The words rung out through his mind and he wondered if Michelle would be angry at him for this. He just couldn't stand by while that jerk put his hands on her. Guys like that made Custiel angry. Either way, he grabbed a nearby cloth, wet it, and worked to cleaning up what blood he could. It seemed both cuts had already clotted and left just a small incision into his skin visible. They weren't deep enough to cause any harm.

Leaving the bathroom, he grabbed a dark green sweater from his closet, carefully slipping it on before taking off his boots. Just as he changed from his suit pants to a pair of jeans, there were a few knocks at his door. Custiel cringed just slightly, hoping that maybe, just maybe, Tenth might not have made it. Like maybe he'd gotten called into work or something equally as fortunate.

But as he opened the door to reveal his older brother, he knew he couldn't be that fortunate. Tenth was wearing his usual slim, pinstriped suit which made Custiel wonder if he'd just gotten done with a shift at work or something. There was a sudden raise of the older man's eyebrows, eyes widening just slightly as his voice rose in pitch, "Jesus, what the hell happened to you?!"

Custiel gave a heavy sigh, "I told you, I don't want to talk 'bout it. What're you doing here?"

"I told you," he repeated after Custiel, brushing past the younger man and stepping inside. "We need to talk."

As much as Custiel didn't want him to come into his flat, he was pretty well drained of energy. Even moving more than necessary hurt him, so he didn't protest. Not to mention the whole _'get along with Tenth for the sake of Michelle'_ thing. He'd gotten into enough trouble today as it was.

Custiel closed the door then turned to face Tenth, "So talk."

Tenth pressed his hands into his pockets, "When were you planning to invite me to Rory's stag party this Saturday?"

Custiel's mouth opens, obviously shocked. How the hell did he know about that?! He was sure he didn't slip anything hinting at that lately. He knows he didn't. He's pretty certain that Tenth and Rory don't talk, either. Not regularly enough for Rory to have mentioned it to him.

Custiel stuttered, trying to find words, "How… How did you-"

"Michelle mentioned it to me," he said in a matter-of-fact tone. "She wanted me to press you about it subtly, trying to hint at it to you, but I thought why not just ask you right out. Because I am curious myself, really."

There had to be a headache coming on from today. There just had to. In fact, he felt one coming on now.

"I, ah…" Why did he even feel the need to try and cover about this? "I was going to ask you soon as I got the details from Rory. He hasn't texted me 'bout it yet."

Did that please Tenth? He wasn't sure that he cared. But Tenth gave a nod anyway, "Oh! Great then, just make sure to send that along when you get it." Then came a grin, "I'd love to go."

Well, in a roundabout way, Custiel supposed that was relatively painless. It could've been so much worse, really. With Tenth squeezing it out of him like that, it was quick and to the point. And as much as he was annoyed Tenth just went direct instead of being subtle like Michelle asked, he could understand. Tenth didn't exactly do subtle.

"S'that it, then?" Custiel asked after a small moment of silence, urging him to know if this visit would hold anymore headaches.

Tenth seemed to think it over somewhat, his lower lip pouting out in thought as he usually would. Soon came a few shakes of his head, "No, no, I think that's just about it. Yeah, pretty much. Except I'd still like to know just what happened to you."

"What do you _think_ happened to me," Custiel asked with very little patience seeping through his tone as he crossed his arms across his chest. Probably a bad idea. It hurt and he winced slightly, but he tried not to show it bothered him.

"Tripped and fell? Wasn't looking where you were going and ran into a door? Bad day of football? Unfortunate run-in with a cat?"

"I got into a bloody fight," Custiel burst out, Tenth's list just a bit grating. "There, now you know. Happy?"

Tenth's eyebrows furrowed, "Don't know. Maybe. Why'd you get into a fight? You're not really the type."

Custiel sighed, wanting to rub a hand over his face, but knew it probably wouldn't be a painless idea, so he refrained. "You've got a hard time of listening, 'cause I told you, _I don't want to talk 'bout it_. You know what happened to me, isn't that good enough?"

"Alright, alright, fair enough," Tenth said, seeming to finally let it go. "You gonna be alright?"

That was a bit surprising, Tenth asking about his wellbeing. But Custiel still nodded slightly as he reached for the door handle once more, "Yeah, I'll be fine. Now really, can you leave? Please?"

As Custiel pulled the door open, Tenth walked out of it without so much as a protest, which was another surprise to Custiel. He wouldn't argue with it, though. Turning just as he stepped out, Tenth turned and asked, "You'll remember to text me those details, right?"

"Right," Custiel confirmed.

"Take it easy," Tenth said with a small nod.

To which Custiel simply said, "Yeah," and closed the door.

He supposed, if he had to look at it in some sort of positive light, he didn't have to worry about asking Tenth to the stag anymore. As much as he didn't want him there, he'd just have to deal with it then. For now, he felt he majorly needed some tea and rest.

Just as he set the water within the kettle on the stove, there was a ringing from his back pocket. His mobile. Quickly reaching into his pocket, he brought it out and saw it was Michelle.

"Hello?" Custiel answered without hesitation.

"Oh my God, Custiel, are ya okay?" She sounded more worried than upset, which was definitely a good sign to Custiel. "I'm sorry I didn't call earlier, they wouldn't let me. They wouldn't even let me leave to talk to ya."

Custiel was quick to reassure her, "No, no, it's okay, really. 'N ah yeah, I'm… Fine. No worries."

That didn't convince her, "Are ya sure? Ya didn't get hurt too badly, did ya? Because, I mean, the other guy – his name was Lawrence apparently – got pretty messed up."

"Oh." Was Custiel perhaps a bit happy about that? Yes. Yes, he was. He may have regret being thrown out and not making it to her tour, but he sure as hell didn't regret beating some sense into Lawrence. "I'll survive. He didn't mess with you anymore, did he?"

"No, he didn't," she assured him, sounding a bit more consoled. "I explained what happened and that he was harassin' me. Another woman backed up my claim, sayin' she saw the whole thing. I don't think he'll be pressin' charges because of that."

As Custiel turned on the stove, he gave a small smile, "Good, good, I'm glad."

There was a small pause before came the soft response, "I never got the chance to thank ya for standin' up for me like that, Custiel."

Custiel chuckled, "I couldn't just stand there. 'N besides, m'just glad you're not mad at me."

"Well," Michelle considered slightly. "I don't think ya should've handled it with violence, but s'pose ya can't change that now. But if ya weren't there, I don't think the creep would've left me alone."

Custiel leaned against the counter as he ducked his head slightly with remorse clear in his tone, "But I was there to see your tour. 'N I just screwed that up got kicked out. I'm sorry…"

"It's okay," Michelle confirmed, although Custiel still didn't feel like it was okay. "Like I said, ya got the creep to leave me alone. Maybe even taught him a lesson."

Custiel couldn't help but laugh at that, the action causing a bit of pain. He tried to ignore it, but he knew it would only get worse tomorrow. "Yeah, 'spose so… Oh and, ah.. I invited Tenth to the stag party."

There was a very sudden uplift in her tone, "Ya did?! Oh, that's great, Custiel! See? Was that so hard?"

It was a struggle. "No, I guess not." He didn't bother mentioning how Michelle let Tenth know about it. Didn't want to ruin her happiness over the matter.

"I think ya two are gonna have a lot of fun," Michelle encouraged, another small giggle coming from her. "I mean, it's a stag party. Guy stuff."

Was she trying to be encouraging? Custiel could only imagine she was attempting to, "Yeah, fun. Guy stuff. Whatever that means."

"Well ya know what I mean!" They both shared a small laugh, Custiel's perhaps more forced than hers. After a small silence, she spoke once more, this time much more serious and quiet, "Are ya going to be okay, Custiel? Really?"

"Yeah, 'course," he confirmed as the water in the kettle began to boil. "I'm always okay."

"Okay," Michelle seemed pleased enough by that answer. "I've got to go. My break's over. I'll call ya after I get out?"

Custiel turned the stove off and nodded a bit, "Yeah, sounds good. Talk to you then."

"Bye, Custiel."

* * *

It really seemed that completing so much work ahead of schedule was now Custiel's undoing. He'd done enough work to last him a week, leaving him with little to nothing to do while waiting for Michelle to call. Ironic that after all that work, all it got him were all these bruises and a couple of cuts. What the hell kind of reward was that?

The several hours waiting for Michelle to call him seemed to really drag on. Especially with nothing to do to keep him busy beyond watching telly and drinking tea. The sun had already begun to set and he realized he did virtually nothing productive with his day. Then again, with how sore he was, he wasn't sure just how productive he could've been anyway.

Just when Custiel least expected it, his phone rang on the table before his chair, causing him to bolt forward to grab it. Not such a good idea. Not having moved for some time, he was even sorer than he thought. But he just winced and settled back into his chair, answering it.

"Hey, Michelle."

"Custiel? How're ya doing?"

She must've still been worried about his condition. He gave a small chuckle and reassured her, "I told you, I'm okay."

Michelle was quick to respond, "Ya aren't in any pain?"

"Michelle," he started slowly, knowing he was in pain but didn't want to worry her with it. "I promise, I'm fine. Really."

"Okay, well," she paused a moment, almost like she didn't quite know what to say. "I was wonderin' if, maybe, ya want to go somewhere for dinner tomorrow?"

That was unexpected. But the good kind of unexpected. Custiel didn't really want Michelle to see him in the condition he was in, but he knew he wouldn't be healed for another week or more. He didn't want to just avoid her until then. Besides, she wanted to have dinner with him. How could he refuse?

"Ah, yeah, that sounds brilliant," Custiel confirmed with a nod or two. "What time 'n where? I'll buy."

Michelle hesitated, her voice sounding unsure of itself, "Club Gascon? Tenth made reservations for 7 o'clock. I asked if I could invite ya along, and he was okay with it."

Of course he chose Club Gascon. He just had to choose somewhere fancy to impress Michelle, no doubt. But as much as he didn't like the idea of sharing dinner with Tenth, he felt a sense of smug happiness overwhelm him because she wanted Custiel to come along. He couldn't stand to be there with him, but he also couldn't stand the idea of them being alone.

"Sure, I'll come," he finally said after a few moments of debate.

Michelle sounded to be genuinely happy about this, "Good! So I'll see ya tomorrow night?"

"Yup," Custiel tried to smile, but found that a bit hard. And it wasn't just the bruising that made it difficult. "Tomorrow night."


	7. Dinner

"Lungbarrow! What in the hell happened to you?!"

Extreme soreness, as expected. He'd woken up this Wednesday morning feeling as though a thousand tons were weighing on top of him. Every little movement hurt and getting out of bed was a struggle in and of itself. So much so, he'd nearly been late to work and that was _without_ taking a shower this morning. He suddenly wished that he'd done so. The shower might've helped to ease the pain. But he hadn't exactly woken early enough to do so; especially since he didn't factor in how slow the pain would make him.

Sure enough, he'd won that little fight, but he didn't exactly _feel_ like a winner, in the end. He'd hate to see how Lawrence ended up, honestly. And to add onto all of this, Ida was quick to take notice the moment he brought her coffee.

"I, ah…" Custiel began, trying to find a feasible reason for his condition. "I got into an accident." Close enough.

Ida didn't quite seem to buy it, her brow furrowing and her tone almost accusatory, "What _kind_ of accident?"

Custiel was somehow afraid that if he told her he'd gotten into a fist fight – one that _he_ started for that matter – it could possibly damage his job. And he'd already been on thin ice the previous week. So what was he to say? Could car accidents cause this sort of damage? It wasn't _completely_ impossible. So perhaps that'd have to be a more clear excuse that Custiel could only hope Ida would be pleased with.

Opening his mouth to use said excuse (not really sure how well it would come out), he was suddenly stopped by a ringing. Ida's phone, located on the corner of her desk, was ringing, demanding her attention. She quickly reached for it without a word to Custiel, but that wasn't a problem to him. In fact, it was a relief. As she answered it, he stood slightly awkwardly for a few moments before Ida began to wave him out with her hand.

Even more relief washed over him at that. Giving a small nod, he backed out of the room, closing the door as he did so. He exhaled as the door clicked shut, eyes closing as he did so. Whoever that was on the other end of that call, he owed them for saving him from Ida's detail-seeking questions.

The rest of the day seemed to breeze by as usual. Taking calls, getting coffee, and working through scheduling management. All quite a usual day with not so usual pain. Luckily, Ida didn't press any further, for whatever reason. But Custiel wouldn't dispute it. He got in an accident and that was all he was intending for her to know.

After clocking out and exiting the office, he began his walk to his flat, his mind beginning to trail to thoughts of the dinner tonight and just how it was going to play out. By the way that Michelle invited him, Custiel had to wonder if Tenth hadn't planned for Custiel to come along at all. That maybe Michelle insisted that Custiel come too. Perhaps there was a smile that played at his lips for that thought, imagining how the conversation would've gone and possibly how peeved it would've made Tenth.

Whether Tenth originally planned for Custiel to come along or not didn't matter. In the end, he was just glad that those two weren't going to be alone together. Even if it was at the cost of becoming the third wheel again, just as he imagined was going to happen. No doubt Tenth would try to be as impressive as he could. Maybe even more than usual. Either way, Custiel knew it was going to be hard to uphold his promise to get along with Tenth.

As he entered his flat, he went straight to his bedroom, looking to the digital clock near his bedside. He had just a little over an hour to get ready and be there on time. Stripping himself of his work suit, he quickly got into the shower. Well, as quickly as he could without it hurting him too much. It wasn't as bad as it was this morning; moving around all day had helped to numb him to it all, really. But it still wasn't effortless.

Stepping out from the shower, he dried himself off and finally looked in the mirror for the first time that day. The two large bruises, one on his left cheek the other on his forehead, had certainly gotten worse. Last he'd seen them, they were just red and slightly swollen. Now they were dark, had spread much more than he'd thought, and looked in no rush to be leaving his face any time soon, much to his dismay.

There was a thought that popped up in his mind then, that perhaps he shouldn't go at all. Looking like this, there was no doubt Michelle would make a fuss of it. She didn't know the extent of his injuries. Although his torso and chest fared no better, several random darkening spots along his light skin, his face really did seem to receive the worst of it. He really didn't want Michelle to see him like this.

But he couldn't _not_ go. There was no way he'd give Tenth the satisfaction of not showing up and leaving them alone together. Even if it meant Michelle seeing him in this state. He'd already missed her tour. He wasn't going to miss this too. It was just a shame he didn't really have anything to conceal the blemishes a bit more.

Finishing in the bathroom, Custiel made his way to his closet, trying to decide just what to wear. He wasn't completely sure on what to wear. It wasn't often that he went to fancy restaurants. He'd especially never been to _Club Gascon_, of all places. Tenth must've been trying really hard to impress and that just always rubbed Custiel the wrong way.

Custiel decided on a dark blue blazer, a white button-up shirt over a black undershirt, brown belt, and faded brown corduroy pants. He didn't want to overdress, so he supposed this outfit would work well enough. He just hoped that the darker colors would keep as much attention away from his face as possible, although that was a difficult task.

As he strapped his watch onto his wrist, he realized he was going to be late if he didn't leave right away. Pocketing his mobile and wallet, he combed through his hair one last time before stepping out from his flat.

There was an odd sense of nervousness that began to bubble up within him as he caught a cab and directed the driver to Club Gascon. He just had to keep a level head. Something he seemed to be not so great at lately, but it didn't mean he couldn't try. He made a promise to himself he wouldn't let his temper get the better of him. No matter what Tenth did or said, he had to keep his cool. For Michelle's sake. _For Michelle's sake._

Within 15 minutes, the cab pulled up to the sidewalk just in front of the restaurant. There in front of the stone building were several people, all looking to be dressed for the occasion. He was relieved to see that he was neither overdressed nor under. And standing just off to the side of the line was Michelle and Tenth, speaking with one another. Custiel paid the fee for the cab before he stepped out, immediately making his way over to the two.

Tenth was the first to notice him, his tone indicating a barely concealed annoyance, "Look who finally shows up."

Michelle immediately turned her attention to Custiel, her lips parting in surprise. No doubt at the state of his face. Custiel suddenly found that a non issue as he got a clear look at her. Gorgeous couldn't even _begin_ to describe her radiance this night. She was in a form-hugging, lavender dress, the intricate lace designs extending about the entirety of the short dress. The lace became see-through as they wrapped about her arms in long sleeves, and her dark, strappy high heels made her taller than her usual height as she approached him. But she was still shorter than both Custiel and Tenth, even with the heels. Her hair was partially in a one-sided braid, the majority of her hair resting on her left shoulder.

"Custiel, _oh my God_," she remarked as her eyes scanned his features, her own tugging into worry. "Your face… I thought ya said ya were okay?"

Custiel swallowed a bit roughly as he forced a small chuckle, "But I am okay. Really, I am."

"Ya aren't in any pain?" Michelle pressed, not seeming to be content with that answer of his.

"Sore, 'course, but okay. Promise. Looks worse than it actually is," he assured her with a small smile, hoping to quell her worries.

"I hate to interrupt," Tenth suddenly interjected, mere inches away from where they both stood, "but we're going to lose our table if we don't go in now. Perhaps if _someone_ wasn't late, we'd be able to sit out here and chitchat a little more."

Custiel was quick to throw a glare Tenth's way before he turned and began walking into the building. Whether Tenth caught that or not, he wasn't sure. Michelle looked back to Custiel and she gave him a small smile, "Come on, Custiel."

Michelle then turned and began to follow after Tenth, and Custiel followed suit. The moment they entered through the entrance, the smell of French cuisine floated through the air, the quiet bustle of a busy establishment greeting Custiel's eyes. It was definitely a place to attempt at impressing Michelle and as they came to a stop before the hostess, Custiel looked to Michelle to gauge her reaction.

Unfortunately, he couldn't garner that much from her, as she simply watched Tenth as he told the hostess, "Lungbarrow for 7 o'clock."

The hostess, young, pretty, dark olive skin, smiled pleasantly after she checked the reservations book and picked up three menus, nodding her head to her left, "Follow me, please."

As she requested, they all followed, Tenth in the lead and Custiel trailing behind as they wove between circular, cloth-covered tables, and waiters alike. They soon came to a stop at an empty circular table, the three elaborately decorated menus being placed before each of the three chairs. Custiel was oddly pleased to see that they were all evenly spaced around the table, each chair the same length apart from one another. Michelle sat to Custiel's left and Tenth to his right.

"And what will be your choice of drink tonight?" the hostess inquired, looking to Tenth right away for an answer.

"A bottle of champagne for me and a bottle of white wine for her," Tenth confirmed to the woman with a warm and friendly smile, to which the hostess's own smile seemed to grow at.

She nodded, "Very well, and you, sir?"

"Tea. English breakfast. If you've got any," Custiel said, not really wanting to have any of the wine. He never was a fan of wine.

She gave a small nod, "We certainly do. Your waiter will be right by with your drinks shortly."

"Thank ya," Michelle finally said with a pleasant smile before the hostess walked off.

The soft music – something French, Custiel could only guess – floated in and out with the soft hum of the other customers around them, all three of them, however, quiet for a few moments. Custiel looked to Michelle who had her hands within her lap and was slightly biting on her lower lip as she eyed the tablecloth.

He was about to comment on her appearance, maybe to ease her or to really just start some kind of conversation, when Tenth caught his attention, "So, Custiel, you look worse than you did yesterday."

"Oh, yeah, thanks for the compliment, mate," Custiel said sarcastically as he turned to look at Tenth, perhaps a touch of annoyance tainting his features. Just now Custiel finally noticed what Tenth was wearing. It was a simple beige button-up shirt with a dark tie, black belt, and black trousers.

"Ya saw him yesterday?" Michelle questioned with genuine curiosity in her tone.

"Yeah, something sounded up with him on the phone, so I stopped by his flat," Tenth explained, not missing a beat. "Told me he got into a fight but he never told me _what_ fight exactly. I'd still like to know."

Custiel sighed, "What more d'you need to know? It was a fight, end of."

"There was a creep that wouldn't leave me alone and Custiel fought him off," Michelle answered Tenth anyway.

Tenth's left eyebrow raised slightly, "And where was this?"

Custiel could then feel a slight smugness invading his response, "Michelle invited me to see her first museum tour 'n I showed up a bit early. Got kicked out after the fight so I missed the tour, but the bloke left her alone."

Whether Tenth was annoyed at this detail, or of Custiel's not so subtle smugness, he didn't show it very well. But from what Custiel could tell, it certainly got to him a bit as he quickly tried to shoot Custiel down, "Well, judging by the look of you, I'd imagine you weren't exactly the winner of that fight."

"Michelle said the other guy, Lawrence was his name, got pretty messed up too," Custiel threw back, Tenth's attempt not diminishing his small smirk.

Tenth then looked to Michelle, almost for confirmation that Custiel was bluffing, "That true? _Really?_"

She just gave a small laugh and nod, "Yea, I'd say Custiel _definitely_ won that fight. Ya should've seen how much worse off he was."

Custiel couldn't resist throwing an even bigger smug smile Tenth's way, hazel eyes watching him carefully as he seemed a bit peeved by this, "Well, that's… Good."

There was an odd sense of elation that filled Custiel at Tenth's lack of response to this. Tenth had always treated Custiel like he was weak. Acted like he was beneath him not only in metaphorical means but physical. Which never made too much sense, seeing how stick thin Tenth was. Perhaps it was the older brother thing, Custiel wasn't sure. But the clear annoyance coming from him was something Custiel had wanted for a very, very long time, and it was satisfying in its own way.

The silence didn't last long before their waiter came by, tray in hand with their beverages skillfully balanced on top. He looked young, perhaps even younger than Custiel, and had pale skin that starkly contrasted to his black hair. He placed the wine glasses on the table before placing the opaque flare mug filled with steaming tea before Custiel. Next came the bottles of alcohol, popping both of them open and pouring them each into their respective glasses.

Tenth said a quick thanks before the waiter brought out a pen and small tablet, "Are you ready to give place your orders?"

Custiel wasn't at all ready. In fact, he'd nearly forgotten about the menu that was right in front of him. He quickly picked it up and looked through it, the many names of dishes honestly confusing to him. They all sounded a bit… Unappetizing. Why'd Tenth choose this place again? Trying to be impressive? How the hell was seared wild pigeon _impressive?_

"I'll have the charolais beef variation," Tenth said without a second glance at his menu.

The waiter wrote this down then looked to Michelle who pointed to her menu and tried to read it off, "Duchess of marmite and cripsy potato ribbon?" The waiter nodded and copied down the order.

"And finally you, sir?" the young man inquired to Custiel, looking at him expectantly.

"Ah…" Custiel hesitated, honestly not sure what to go with. The menus could have at least had pictures or something to help him out. But he finally settled on, "Pressed duck 'n crab, pastis 'n spicy tomato coulis." Did he even pronounce that last word correctly? He wasn't sure. But the waiter didn't correct him, so he imagined so. Either that or the waiter just didn't care. With a menu like that, he could imagine people mispronouncing things all the time.

With a smile, the waiter finish writing down his order and took the menus, "Your orders will be out shortly. If you have a need for anything else, my name is Andy and I'll be your waiter tonight."

Michelle smiled up at him, "Thank ya, Andy."

Andy returned the smile her way, "You are very welcome."

With that, he walked off, leaving them in silence once more. Custiel reached forward, grabbing the handle of his cup and bringing it up. He blew on it lightly before taking a small sip, the tea a welcome calmer for him. Custiel looked over to Tenth who hadn't even touched his glass then over to Michelle who was slightly running her finger over the rim of it.

"So how's work goin' for ya two?" Michelle finally broke the silence as she looked between them, waiting for a response from either.

Tenth was the first to speak up, "Brilliant for me. All the other doctors I work with say I easily rate among the top in London." That was obvious smugness and an attempt to impress. Tenth brought his glass up to his lips and sipped at the liquid before continuing with a shrug, almost like he was trying to make it out to be nonchalant, "Some say maybe among the top in all of UK."

Custiel wanted to groan at his bragging, but Michelle seemed both impressed and happy at this fact, her smile wide, "Oh, wow! That's amazin', Tenth! I'm really happy for ya. No pressure then, yea?"

Tenth chuckled, "None at all. It just comes naturally to me anyway."

"That really is great. Ya must be proud," she nodded with that smile of hers still intact before she looked to Custiel. "What about ya, Custiel? Things any better at Mile Recruitments?"

Custiel didn't want to disappoint Michelle. And as she watched him expectantly, along with Tenth, he felt like telling her that absolutely nothing had changed _would_ be a disappointment. Even if his job wasn't in jeopardy, which would be an even bigger disappointment. He needed it to be something more, something to rival Tenth's. Was he turning this into a bit of a competition? Probably. But when had things _not_ been a competition between the two brothers?

Custiel gave a small shrug as his fingers fiddled with the smooth glass of his cup, "My boss has been, ah… Talking 'bout giving me a promotion."

Michelle's eyebrows rose slight, "A promotion?"

"What kind?" Tenth chimed in, seeming to be interested as well. But Custiel could only imagine it was to call out or belittle his small fib.

Custiel cleared his throat and stumbled a bit, "Just, ah… Y'know. A promotion. I can't really talk 'bout it that much, 'cause… Because Ida, my boss, she wanted me to keep a bit… Quiet 'bout it."

There was a sudden laugh from Tenth, "Then why bring it up at all if you can't talk about it much?"

"Well, I was asked so I thought I'd tell you," he quickly defended as he shot a glare Tenth's way. "S'not that important anyway. What 'bout your tour yesterday, Michelle? How'd it go?" He was quick to try and change the subject, turning his attention back to Michelle, glare-free.

Michelle smiled at the thought of it, "Great, actually. It went off without a hitch."

"Sorry I wasn't there to see it," Custiel apologized with a small sigh. "I'd have loved to see it."

Tenth suddenly cut in, "I wouldn't have gotten kicked out. Would've seen Michelle's tour with no interruptions whatsoever."

Custiel's glare turned to Tenth, his voice a bit defensive, "Yeah, well, you _weren't_ there. 'N I doubt you'd have handled it better anyway."

"I certainly wouldn't have gotten to the point you did," Tenth jabbed back, leaning his elbows onto the table and folding his fingers together before him. "Even if I did, I wouldn't have let myself get so beat up."

Custiel gave a laugh, not out of mirth, but out of incredulous spite, "No way in hell that would have happened."

There was an audible sigh from Michelle before she cut in, "It doesn't really matter anyway. What happened, happened."

"Well," Tenth began almost insistently. "It could've happened _better_ if I were there. All I'm saying."

"Well," Custiel mocked, unmistakable annoyance in his voice as his hand gripped the table cloth, "you _weren't_ there, so no use in continuing with bloody _hypotheticals."_

"Old habits die hard, huh?"

Custiel was immediately confused by Tenth's response, his eyebrows tugging together, "What're you talking 'bout?"

Tenth shrugged as if it were obvious, "You always let things get to you too easily 'n that just never changes. Always going to be so oversensitive, aren't you?"

Custiel's hold on the white sheet grew, feeling his anger toward Tenth growing. But that was when he'd reminded himself exactly what his mission was today. Stay level headed. Stay calm. But the more he saw that absolute idiot's face, with his stupid sideburns, stupid brown eyes that were their dad's, and that stupid gelled mess of hair, the more he felt that was impossible.

Standing suddenly, Custiel turned and began to walk off when Michelle reached forward, grabbing the sleeve of his brazer, "Custiel, wait-"

"I just-" he gave a quick sigh, turning to look to her. "I just need to use the restroom. I'll be back."

Without waiting to see her expression, Custiel walked forward once more, her hold on his sleeve dropping. He honestly had no idea where the bathroom was in this stupid place. But he'd picked a direction, somewhere near the back, and prayed it would be there. Even if he didn't find the bathroom, he just needed to get away from Tenth for a few moments.

Once he was out of sight from Tenth and Michelle, he asked a passing waiter where the restrooms were, and he got pointed in the right direction. He was close enough. Entering the marble white bathroom, he stepped over to one of the exquisite-looking sinks, turning the faucet on and cupping some water within his hands. He quickly splashed it on his face, wincing as he did so. Too quickly. He accidentally hit his bruises, prompting him to hiss very slightly.

After pausing for a moment, he looked up into the large mirror before him, his eyes searching his own battered face, droplets of water rolling off his skin. It'd always been like this between them. There was absolutely nothing new that happened back at that table. And perhaps that was what made him hate this all the more.

Tenth would always tease, goad, poke, prod, and belittle Custiel. For as long as he could remember, there was always something he was being ridiculed for. And their father just practically cheered him on and encouraged it.

There was one time in particular that Custiel wanted to join the book club. He was still quite young, nearly the age of 15. He thought he could trust Tenth with the information that he was going to be in this new club, knowing if their father knew, he would immediately disapprove and not allow him into the group. He just had to tell someone. But it was among the last times he'd trusted his older brother with any sort of information like that.

As he should've predicted, Tenth told their dad. It prompted a long talk, more like a long verbal beating, to which Custiel was the victim of their father's sharp tongue.

"_A book club?! Are you fucking serious?! Why can't you get into some kind of useful club like your brother?! A fucking book club! Why the hell do you wanna sit around reading a bunch of goddamned books, Custiel? If your mother was still alive, I'm sure she'd be just as ashamed! __**You**__ should be ashamed!"_

And of course Tenth just added onto it, _"See? I told you it was a stupid club anyway."_

Custiel shuddered then, shaking the memory from himself. Rehashing _that_ memory certainly wasn't doing him any favors at the moment. Past was past. He had to remember that. He couldn't ruin this night, for Michelle's sake.

_Be the better man_, Custiel told himself. Reaching over, he grabbed a few paper towels from the dispenser and dabbed them carefully on his face and hands, drying his skin. He _would_ be the better man in this situation. He wouldn't let his brother get to him anymore tonight.

After tossing the paper towels away, he straightened his brazer, smoothed his fringe back, took a deep breath, and headed back out once more. As he approached their table once more, he noticed their food had already been placed on the table, both Tenth and Michelle already starting to eat theirs. Michelle noticed him returning and shot him a slightly worried glance, her eyes begging for some sort of silent assurance that he was okay. She seemed somewhat appeased as he gave a hint of a smile and nod her way.

Just as he sat back down, Tenth was quick to comment, "Hissy fit over, then?"

"Tenth," Michelle cut in before Custiel had a chance to say anything. He simply looked at him with a nearly empty expression, trying to repress any kind of annoyance from surfacing.

Tenth looked over to Michelle, a bit surprised, "What?"

Michelle sighed, poking her food with her fork slightly, "Just leave it."

"Alright, alright," Tenth gave in before taking another sip of his wine. He then mumbled within his glass, "_You're the one that wanted him to come along._"

Custiel grabbed a fork and mulled his food around on his plate somewhat, eyes looking over to Michelle slightly before giving her another smile. She returned it, not seeming to have caught what Tenth said. Although Custiel did. And he could feel a small sense of triumph at that. She really _did_ ask for Custiel to come along. This was originally going to be a date between Tenth and Michelle, and she asked for Custiel to come.

Silence took over the table once more as they ate their meals. Custiel had to admit, for as strange as the food looked and sounded, it tasted amazing. He'd never had food quite like this before and he doubted he'd ever have any like it again.

After taking a drink of his tea, Custiel could feel himself calm enough to realize if he was going to show Michelle his efforts of trying to get along with Tenth, now would be the time. As much as he didn't want to ask about this particular subject, he did anyway, "When d'you think it'd be the best time to come 'n see your flat, Tenth?"

This seemed to catch Tenth a bit off guard, the chewing of his mouth slowing a moment as he looked to Custiel before he swallowed and answered, "Sometime next week, maybe. Thought you weren't interested?"

"I never said that. Just… Wasn't sure. But I thought it over 'n I think it'd be a great idea," Custiel was really trying to lay it on to make it seem like he was completely okay with this. He hoped it was working. "Ida's flying out for a meeting on Thursday, so I'll be free then. S'that work for you?"

Tenth gave a small nod, "That'll work. What about you, Michelle? Feel like joining us? I could fix dinner and we could make a date of it."

Custiel wasn't exactly expecting that. He turned his attention to Michelle and she looked to be a bit put on the spot, but she nodded with a slowly growing smile, "Yea, I think I'd like that."

There was a nagging thought then that Tenth must've invited her for the sake of trying to impress her again. It was all he tried to do, really. Then again, Custiel couldn't say he wasn't guilty of doing such a thing. He supposed it was a trait they both shared, in their own ways. Just another thing to remind him that they are, indeed, related.

Luckily, the rest of their dinner was relatively uneventful. Luckily for Custiel, of course. Tenth just simply went on telling a few stories, a bit drawn out and pointless, of some patients as well as any work-related incidents. Custiel simply remained quiet, watching as Michelle seemed to enjoy the stories. She laughed when it was necessary, cringed when necessary, and asked questions when necessary. Sometimes she even urged him on, seeming to find entertainment in what stories Tenth shared. Tenth just loved stressing the fact that he was a doctor, quite an amazing one at that, and he'd never grow tired of this job.

There was a small sense of relief when Custiel noticed that all three of their plates had been cleared and Andy had dropped the check off. Tenth began to reach for the check when Custiel objected, "I can pay for it."

Tenth just looked over at Custiel like he was speaking nonsense, "What? No, don't worry, _I'll_ pay for it."

Custiel could hardly believe Tenth was being polite. Just another way to show off. Custiel objected once more, "C'mon, just let me-"

"I can afford it," Tenth cut him off a bit harshly, the comment slightly a low blow. What the hell was that supposed to imply? That Custiel couldn't afford it?

"I can afford it too, y'know," Custiel argued back, more than a little disgruntled at that.

Tenth then gave a, quite frankly, infuriating smile, "Well, just consider it my treat, little brother."

That little brother comment certainly did his mood no favors. Custiel was about to argue that, but one look over to Michelle, and he gave up, slumping back within his seat slightly, "Fine."

"Thank ya for dinner, Tenth," Michelle piped in, somewhat of a nervous smile on her lips. No doubt nervous from the tension between the two brothers. "It was amazin'."

Tenth then flashed a warm grin at her as he brought his wallet out and placed several bills on the leather book that held the check. Michelle shifted her glance to Custiel who quickly caught on and knew that look. She was urging him to thank Tenth as well. God, why did Michelle have this much power over him?

"Yeah, thanks… Thanks for the _treat_," Custiel said grudgingly, trying his best to sound pleasant despite how untrue that was.

A smug smile just crossed Tenth's lips then, "No problem at all."

There was a bit of a blur as they exited the restaurant and into the darkening streets of London. Perhaps because Custiel couldn't get out of there fast enough. The next thing he knew, he felt his mobile vibrate in his pocket, a text lighting up the screen. It was from Rory, detailing all the info of the stag party that was to happen in three days time.

"Hey, Tenth," Custiel began as he caught up to his brother, pushing the device toward him. "Got a text from Rory 'bout the stag."

Tenth took the phone, reading it over and giving a few short nods before handing it back, "Brilliant! Just forward all that to my mobile so I won't forget it."

Custiel nodded slightly, performing that task now. He gave a sigh as he hit send to Tenth's phone, knowing that action cemented his attendance at the party. Something he didn't want, but knew Michelle would be happier if they both went. For _'quality time'_ or whatever kind of time happened at a stag party.

Tenth reached into his own pocket, checking his mobile before giving a confirming nod to Custiel. Fate sealed, Custiel supposed.

"So, Michelle, I want to make sure you get home alright," Tenth began, hands shoving themselves within his pockets, what seemed to be his usual stance. "Mind if we both take the same cab?"

Of course he would. Custiel could feel a disagreement bubbling up within him, but then he decided against it before it left his mouth. He'd just have to grin and bear it. Maybe not grin, he couldn't get that far. But he didn't want to make this a big deal. It was just a cab ride back. Just a cab ride back, that's all.

Michelle smiled at him happily and nodded, "Yea, that'd be great. I'd appreciate that."

Tenth returned her smile, his lips curling up into a genuinely pleased smile, "I'll get us a cab then."

Custiel watched on as Tenth came to the side of the sidewalk, trying to catch any available cab's attention. He felt an internal groan coming on, knowing that he'd have to wave goodbye to both of them as they left together. He almost felt deflated that he didn't suggest doing that first. Then again, had he, he was sure Tenth would've argued it.

Just as Custiel turned his attention back to Michelle, she was stepping closer to him and before he could realize what she was doing, he felt her lips brush softly against his left cheek. A dumbstruck look no doubt crossed his features and for once, he was grateful for the bruising on his face. It could easily conceal the rush of blood to his cheeks at the action.

As Michelle pulled back, she smiled at him and said softly, "Thank ya, Custiel."

Without another word, Michelle turned on her heel and walked over to Tenth who'd acquired a cab and was waiting for her with the door open. Custiel watched on, nailed to this spot. He couldn't tell if Tenth saw that or not. Either way, he didn't care. The feeling of her lips against his skin remained on his heated cheeks, and as she turned to wave goodbye to him, he just barely responded with a wave himself.

What just happened? Custiel really wasn't sure. But he wasn't complaining. Not at all. Although, he was confused. Why'd she thank him? He continued to ponder this as he watched Tenth get into the cab himself and the vehicle pull away. It was several more moments before he called his own cab, still in a bit of a daze as he told the driver where to head.

Even as he got back into his flat, he was still mulling over what that was. The shock had subsided and his mind trailed to other parts of this day. Tenth's showing off being one of the primary things on his thoughts. But he supposed it didn't matter in the end. Things ended up much better than they possibly could have, given the circumstances. And so, Custiel wouldn't let it bother him anymore. The one thing he would take from this evening was that kiss and Michelle's thanks.

After removing his blazer and tossing it onto his bed, he noticed there was a new fax on his fax machine. Wasn't often that he used that, but Ida would usually use it to send him some important information. As he stepped over to the machine, he took the paper and read it over.

It stated that Ida was going to be going to France for a week-long business trip the week after next. Custiel could feel a slight elation at this, thinking that maybe it'd mean a week off from work for him. When Ida went on business trips, he usually stayed behind. But he could feel his shoulders dropping slightly as he read on, realizing that she wouldn't be going alone. He was to come with her and help to manage meetings.

An entire week. Wasted and with no chance to spend time with Michelle. He groaned slightly and tossed the paper away, deciding he'd worry about it later. _Much_ later. For now, he just wanted to sleep. He was tired, sore, and in need of rest. Perhaps the idea of being on a week-long business trip was just a bad dream and would go away tomorrow. He had to hope so.


	8. Stag Night

**/ / Warning! This chapter contains some sexual content. You've been warned and stuff.**

* * *

_House of Wolf  
181 Upper St, London N1 1RQ  
Starts 7PM  
1st floor Apothecary Bar_

What the hell do you wear to a stag do? There certainly weren't any particular details on that much. Custiel had heard sometimes there was a certain dress code, but from what he could tell there wasn't really one this time. So with no other leads, he went with something casual. A pair of white jeans with a blue V-neck, and a black hooded leather jacket. Nothing too overdone. Besides, this was a _stag_, how dressed up did he absolutely have to be?

Custiel was pleased that the bruising on his face wasn't nearly as dark as it had been a few days ago when he went to Club Gascon with Tenth and Michelle. It didn't look as glaring as before. He knew he could possibly still receive the odd question or so asking what happened to him, but perhaps not as often as he had earlier in the week. Both of the cuts were nearly done healing and were just barely noticeable upon closer inspection. All in all, he was thankful for the fading reminder of that day.

Just as he slipped his arms within his jacket, there was a knock at his door. He knew right away it was his brother. He agreed to let Tenth show up at his flat a bit early so they could arrive at the stag together. Not that he really wanted to, but what was the use in complaining? As he pulled the door open, there stood Tenth with that smile Custiel wanted to knock right off his face any time he saw it. He was dressed in a black button up shirt, the upper buttons undone revealing a white undershirt, and denim jeans to compliment his red Chuck Taylors.

Tenth took one look at him and asked, "All ready then?"

"As ready as I'll ever be, I 'spose," Custiel replied with a small sigh and shrug before reaching over to the couch and grabbing his mobile and wallet.

"Good! I've got a cab waiting for us," Tenth informed Custiel as he closed the door to his flat, locking it behind him.

Tenth began to walk back the way he'd come, Custiel following behind with an obviously unenthusiastic tone, "_Brilliant._"

Tenth turned to look at Custiel as they walked along, left eyebrow rising slightly, "Well, don't sound _too_ excited now. Got to save some of that hype for when we get there."

Custiel just remained quiet as they continued ahead, pretending not to hear Tenth's remark to that. He stayed silent the rest of the way, even as they stepped into the cab and were heading to House of Wolf. Custiel's attention was heavily focused on the buildings and other cars that passed them by, unbeknownst to him one of his legs lightly twitching up and down. He could admit to himself he was a bit nervous. He never was the best at handling parties. Especially with Tenth being around, he felt like this might turn into some kind of huge disappointment in one way or another.

The silence within in the cab was suddenly broken as Custiel felt a nudge at his left arm, Tenth speaking up as he did so, "Hey, what's up with you?"

Custiel looked over to Tenth, a bit peeved by this, but just shaking his head slightly, "Never been to something like this. Jus'… Don't know what to expect, that's all."

Tenth got a laugh from that, "Ohh, don't worry so much, Custiel! You'll have fun, trust me. More than you probably imagine."

"Have _you_ ever been to a stag night?" Custiel asked with a thin eyebrow raised.

Tenth jut his lower lip out in consideration, "Hmmmmm, maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Once or twice, perhaps," Tenth quipped with a knowing smile.

Custiel's a bit skeptical of that claim, so he pressed, "Really? _Who's?_"

Tenth shook his head, smile still staining his features, "You wouldn't know them. Besides, what happens at a stag, _stays_ at a stag. Anyone ever tell you that?"

At that, Custiel just gave up. What would be the point in pressing anyway? But all too soon, the cab came to a stop and Tenth was paying the driver. As Custiel stepped out, he looked to the building before him, the several stories looking older than it more than likely was. There on a sign attached to the brick building was the picture of a wolf head and below it were the words _'House of Wolf'_ in some sort of fancy golden script.

As the cab drove off, Custiel and Tenth made their way to the entrance, and upon entering the establishment, the distant sound of pounding music greeted Custiel's ears. They sounded to be somewhere nearby, perhaps above on the second story. Custiel couldn't quite tell. Tenth seemed to know where he was going as they entered a hallway of sorts before taking another turn, an open doorway leading to what looked like a small pub.

Upon entering the room that smelled heavily of alcohol (probably thanks to the several upon several shot glasses filled with clear liquid that lined the bar, and Custiel could only guess what kind of drink they were filled with) he noticed several men all hanging around the room. Some were in chairs, some were leaning against walls, a few were leaning against the bar and drinking; all seemed to be in conversation with one another in little groups. A majority of them, Custiel didn't recognize, but there were a few he vaguely knew back in high school. Harry, Jack, and Mickey were just a few that caught his eye right away as familiar faces.

"Hey, there they are!"

Suddenly Rory broke away from a small group, coming to approach Tenth and Custiel. Custiel smiled and returned the greeting, "Hey, mate! Not too late, are we?"

Rory smiled more and shook his head, "Nah, just on time! And just what happened to your face, Custiel?"

"Ahh," Custiel began, almost completely forgetting about the bruises still lingering on his face. He cleared his throat, waving his hand as if it weren't a big deal, "It's a… Long story. I'll tell you later. So anyone else showing up? Or is this it?"

Rory seemed to be content enough with that as he answered, "You two were the last to show up."

Custiel took a look around at the other guys, noting there had to be a total of 15, including them. Rory suddenly looked over to Tenth and jut his hand out, "You must be Custiel's brother. Rory Williams."

Tenth took his hand and shook it firmly with a cheeky smile, "Yeah, that's me. Tenth Lungbarrow. I don't doubt Custiel's gushed about me quite a lot."

Custiel nearly wanted to groan but Rory just laughed, "Something like that."

There was a sudden hand that clasped over Rory's shoulder and a man, looking to be a bit older than all three of them with short hair and a face that could easily be described as a lady killer, came up beside them with a beaming smile, "Tenth! Hey! Haven't seen you since high school!"

"Jack Harkness! Blimey, didn't expect you to be here," Tenth responded with some parts surprise, some parts happiness.

Custiel had never known Jack personally, but he was quite a close friend to Tenth. He'd been around when they were growing up and they had the occasional talk. He'd always found it odd Jack had an American accent, even when they were younger. He continued to shine a smile as he went on, patting Rory's shoulder, "I'm this here unlucky chap's best man."

"_Unlucky?_" Rory repeated, looking at Jack almost incredulously.

All three couldn't help but laugh at Rory's response, Jack speaking once more, "Oh, hey, come on, after tonight, you're absolutely going to see how true that is. Are we ready to start?"

Rory just huffed a chuckle and nodded, "Yeah, everyone's here. So ready."

Jack gave one last pat to Rory's shoulder before stepping over to an empty chair and standing up onto it, gaining the attention of all the guys. Custiel found himself a seat near the entrance and watched on as Jack began, "Alright, alright, listen up! Come on, shut it, listen!"

It took just a few more moments, but all the men soon became quiet and watched Jack as he continued, seeming satisfied with their silence, "As you all know, tonight's the night we bid farewell to another man off to the _shackles_ of marriage."

There were a few chuckles and cheers from the group. "And what better way to get started than playing a game of truth or dare… As a drinking game. Follow me on this fellas. Rules!"

Pausing, Jack jumped down from the chair and stepped over to another chair hidden behind the bar, grabbing a stack of note cards and a handful of sharpies. He began walking around the room, handing two blank cards and one sharpie to each guy, explaining as he did so, "Every one of you will write down one dare and one truth, one for each card. They'll all get thrown into a hat and passed around the room. Whatever card you draw, will be your truth or dare. Chicken out? You'll have to take one shot of Vodka over there on the bar."

As Custiel took the papers and pen from Jack, his mind suddenly going blank and he felt on the spot as everyone else began writing down on theirs. He didn't know any good dares! He really wished he'd gotten this info ahead of time so he would've had time to think it over. But he supposed improvising was the point of this.

"One other rule," Jack started once more, calling attention to himself again. "Specially for the stag. If Rory refuses to do either of his truth or dare…" Jack trailed off, a mischievous sort of smirk on his lips as he kept everyone in suspense. Just before the silence became too long, he revealed, "Then we'll wax all the hairs on his legs right off!"

There was a sudden uproar of laughter from the entire group, but not so much from Rory. He looked horrified, even. Custiel actually couldn't help but laugh along as some of the guys cheered, but Rory protested, "Oi! Hold on, that's absolutely _not_ fair!"

Some of the guys booed at him as Jack laughed and explained, "_You're_ the one that decided to get married, here! No one to blame but yourself." More cheers and sounds of agreement.

Custiel then turned his attention back to the cards within his hands, trying to come up with something. Then it came to him, a dare that Tenth made Custiel do when they were younger. He promptly wrote _'lick the floor' _on one of the cards, silently hoping Tenth would be the one to draw it. Perhaps a small payback. On the other one, he wrote the first question that came to mind, _'If you could kiss anyone one in this room who would it be?'_

Tenth was suddenly leaning over to Custiel, "What'd you write down?"

Custiel turned his attention to Tenth, who was actually in a chair to his left, "M'not gonna tell you! You'll jus' have to figure it out for yourself."

Before Tenth could protest, Jack was coming around with a black fedora, "Time's up! Hand in your cards."

As Jack came around to Custiel, he tossed both of them into the hat and returned the sharpie, feeling a bit of apprehensiveness. He could only hope he wouldn't get a very bad one. But knowing that everyone more than likely wrote any kind of truth or dare to get Rory's legs waxed, he wasn't so sure there was such a thing as 'not a very bad one'. And the threat of having a shot of straight Vodka... He wasn't sure he liked either odds.

Jack then directed everyone to sit in a semi-circle so it would be easiest to go around the room, making sure no one would be skipped in their turns. As Jack shook the hat, he turned to Rory, "Stag gets first choice."

There were a few cheers and a subsequent worrying groan from Rory, "Really?"

"_Really_," Jack confirmed as he presented the hat to Rory. Rory caved and reached into the hat, pulling out a card.

The room went quiet as they all watched Rory, eager to hear just what he got, more than likely the majority hoping he would decline. His eyes squinted, almost like he couldn't believe the words on the card, as he read out loud, "'What article of women's clothing would you like to wear?' O—kay, _who_ wrote this one?"

The room burst out into laughter at Rory's reaction, even Custiel laughing. He was extremely happy he hadn't ended up with _that_ question. He was sure he probably would've opted out. Soon one voice spoke up, a man that looked to be slightly younger than Custiel, "That one was mine, mate!"

"If you don't answer it, we're gonna wax your legs!" another voice shouted out which was soon joined in with encouraging cheers and laughter.

Rory just sighed and shrugged nervously, "Okay, I don't know, ah… Maybe a… Dress? God, I don't know!"

The men all laughed at his answer, mocking him with the repeating of, "Dress! You'd wear a dress?!"

"It was either the dress or the waxed legs," Rory shot back defensively, seeming disgruntled by this for just a few moments before he was laughing along. "So I went with the dress, alright?"

The hat made its rounds, coming to each and every male within the room. Some dares included some incredibly embarrassing things such as writing the name of their first celebrity crush on their faces, to revealing truths such as masturbation habits. There was an equal amount of guys that declined and took the Vodka shot as there were that braved it and did as the card said. As it got closer and closer to Custiel, the more worried he got about what kind of card he'd draw. All the previous ones had been bad enough; he just hoped this one wouldn't be as bad.

All too soon, it was his turn and he was being presented the hat. He reached in, praying he would get an easier one. Picking his fate, he pulled out a random card and read it over. Well, he wasn't sure if this was _so_ bad. Could be worse, he supposed. But it wasn't that great, either.

"Ah…" Custiel began, a few of the guys urging him on to read it. "' Write 'PRICK' on your forehead'."

There was a chorus of light laughter from that, Jack pressing him, "Well, Custiel? Going to chicken out?"

He really didn't feel like having the word 'prick' emblazoned on his forehead for the rest of the night. So he nodded, "Yeah, definitely chickening out."

There were a few groans from the group, but Custiel barely paid them any mind. Jack handed him a small shot glass, the clear liquid looking to be menacing. He's had Vodka before, of course. And it was probably his least favorite of any alcoholic beverages. But he agreed to this, he supposed. Bringing the glass to his lips, he quickly dipped his head back and down went the liquid. It was an intense burn as it went down his throat, the potent stuff causing him to give a few coughs. The men still gave a small cheer as he downed the drink, although his face was contorted into disgust.

"You alright there?" Custiel could hear Tenth ask teasingly, his brother laughing as he did so.

"Fine, m'fine," he waved him off as he placed the empty shot glass on a nearby table. "I'd be more worried 'bout yourself. It's your turn."

Jack laughed as he offered the hat to Tenth, "He's right, you know. Bound to be some pretty nasty ones left in there."

"Don't worry, I'm not going to chicken out like my little brother here," Tenth assured him as he reached into the hat, everyone watching attentively as he pulled out a card.

"Well see 'bout that," Custiel shot back, mouth still tasting of the potent liquor.

Pulling out a card, Tenth read it over immediately, "' Put an ice cube in your pants and keep it there until it completely melts.'"

Custiel soon joined in with the other men in their laughter and sounds of mocking pity, although Tenth didn't look to be intimidated by the challenge. If anything, he looked determined. Although Custiel knew, he _absolutely knew_, it would be a joy to watch Tenth in a little bit of misery for a couple minutes or more.

"Alright, I got this, just watch. Someone get me an ice cube."

At Tenth's acceptance, there were several cheers. Jack leaned over the bar and retrieved a single ice cube into an empty shot glass, handing it over to Tenth, "No regrets?"

"No regrets," Tenth confirmed as he took the glass from Jack and stood. The room grew suddenly still and quiet as Tenth pulled the hem of his jeans forward, leaving just enough room for him to slip the ice cube down and into his pants.

Silence consumed the group of men, all eyes on Tenth, especially Custiel's. Tenth was stoic, seemingly nothing bothering him… Then when the first ten seconds passed, there was a sudden hiss from his mouth, "_Shit._"

Some of the guys laughed at this, some cheered him on, one voice came above the rest, "How's it feeling, mate?!"

"_Cold!_ How else?!" Tenth shouted back, now in obvious discomfort. He tried to stay as still as possible, but he was fidgeting, in quite observable pain from the intense cold, "**_Shit!_**"

That garnered another round of hooting and laughing, louder this time. Custiel joined in without hesitation and it only seemed to grow in volume as a wet spot began to grow at Tenth's crotch, the ice cube quickly melting against his heated skin.

After nearly a minute he gave the all clear, "It's all melted!" He gave a sudden triumphant shout, hands up in the air as they all cheered him on. But Custiel certainly wasn't cheering him on.

"Looks like you've gone and pissed yourself!" one guy shouted out.

Tenth cut into the noise of the group, pointing at them, "Oi! Then consider it victory piss! At least I took the dare, unlike _some_ of you."

All the guys that had chickened out of the cards' demands slightly booed his way, the others that had accomplished their challenge cheering with him. Although Custiel knew exactly who Tenth was aiming that at. Tenth's smirk Custiel's way confirmed that easily enough. Custiel just gave him a bit of a glare.

"Alright, alright," Jack intervenes, trying to calm all the guys down, which he does after a few moments. "Second and final round! Same rules apply. Rory, you're up!"

There were just a few cheers as Rory got offered the hat, and just like last time, he looked absolutely reluctant. Nonetheless, he pulled out a card, his eyes scanning the words hesitantly and a complete look of dread overcoming his features.

"What's it say?!" came a voice, pressing him to read it. The group agreed in a chorus of urging.

Rory swallowed roughly before he read it out, "'What is the most dirty thing you and your partner have done in the bedroom?'"

There were suddenly hoots and laughs, and through it, Rory protested, "Oh my God, I can't… I can't answer that!"

"Then it looks like you're getting your legs waxed," Jack said with an almost nonchalant shrug, like it didn't make the stag go completely sheet white.

"No, you don't understand, I really can't! Amy would eventually find out and _kill me_ if I said anything!"

Then came the chants, "Leg wax, leg wax, leg wax!"

Jack laughed then and spoke above the men, "Well, it seems the jury has come to a decision."

Custiel really couldn't help but feel bad for Rory. Leg waxing was just cringe worthy, something absolutely not painless. Yet he found himself laughing a bit at Rory's response, "God, why did I _ever_ let you talk me into this?!"

Jack shot a very wide and toothy grin his way, "You just can't resist my charm. No one can. Now, trousers off, Rory!"

The room erupted in cheers and amusement alike as Rory groaned and unbuttoned his trousers, taking them off and leaving him in nothing but his pants. Jack had stepped out of the semicircle for a moment and returned with the wax and wax strips in hand.

"Come on, Jack, don't-"

"Nah, we can't let you get away that easily, now can we?" Jack asked as he began to apply the thick wax onto his legs. The group agreed quite loudly as they watched on, even Custiel still finding a bit of amusement in this. Although perhaps he wouldn't normally find this kind of thing funny. It was just a bit cruel. But Custiel had a thought that shot of Vodka had maybe loosened him enough from his usual thoughts, taking him into the mindset of every other guy here.

It wasn't long before Jack had applied 14 individual wax strips on his legs, every inch of his skin covered up to his knees. Rory even looked to be absolutely terrified, his hands covering his face every so often with a sound of displeasure coming from him every so often throughout the process.

"Everyone gets to pull one strip," Jack announced, looking around the room of eager guys, holding one index finger up for emphasis. "One strip only! We'll stay in the order we went for the last round of truth or dare. Which means Mickey, you get first rip, man."

Mickey stood from his seat, rubbing his hands together with an almost diabolical look on his features. Rory closed his eyes tightly, hands gripping the edges of his seat as he whimpered, "Just… Just get it over with."

**_Rip._**

Cheers and Rory's howl of pain mixed in the room. Where the small strip had previous been there was now nothing but light and clear skin. All the darker hair was missing from the uncovered patch. Custiel winced slightly, just imagining how _painful_ that must've been.

"I-I didn't think it would hurt _that_ much!" Rory finally shouted.

Jack just shrugged and responded amid the laughter, "Hey, at least it's less painful than marriage."

That joke got several louder than usual roars of laughing, even Custiel finding himself joining in somewhat. Without much warning, they continued, ripping off one after another. Each one gained more cries of pain from Rory, even a few curses slipping out. He looked completely ready to cave after five had been removed, so much so, he even tried to escape. But several hands from the group were able to catch him and force him to sit back down, reminders that this was a part of the deal being thrown his way.

"Just.. Just give me a bloody break!" Rory pleaded, the patches where the strips had been removed looking quite red and hairless.

Custiel could hear Tenth laugh beside him before he shouted out, "The faster you get those off, the better it'll be! I'm a doctor, trust me, it's not going to kill you."

And so the waxing continued. Custiel almost didn't want to pull off a strip, starting to feel bad for Rory. He knew he wasn't bluffing about Amy finding out if he told them of any of their little bedroom escapades. And Amy being in possession of that kind of knowledge… It certainly didn't spell any kind of good honeymoon for Rory. But really, the guys were right. This was just all part of the deal, in the end.

It finally came upon Custiel's turn to rip off a strip. Rory's cries of pain seemed to die down a bit after hitting the strip number ten. Perhaps his legs were starting to get numb to the pain. Either way, he knew it still must hurt him. The guys cheered Custiel on as he stepped up to Rory, grabbing the top of a strip that was just below his right knee.

"Sorry, mate," Custiel apologized, giving what he could only hope was an apologetic smile. "But rules are rules."

_**Rip.**_

Rory grit out another loud groan, "Y-yeah, rules! Hah! _Bloody rules!_"

Custiel tossed the used up strip into the nearby trashcan, returning back to his seat just as Tenth got up. He was the last one to go. Custiel was certain Rory must've been absolutely pleased about that. If Custiel were in his position, he knows he would've been happy to be this close to finishing. Even if it was Tenth ripping the last piece off. Perhaps he could possibly consider it a friendly service.

With just a single moment of hesitation, Tenth ripped the last piece off and then the room erupted in a cacophony of cheers and hollers. Rory slumped back in his seat, probably completely thankful it was over. Custiel thought he could even hear Rory muttering, "It's over, oh God, it's over." Custiel gave a small cheer. Rory really was a trooper.

As it began to calm within the room, Rory was the first to speak, "Okay, who the _hell_ wrote that one."

All the men looked from one to another, seemingly no one ready to fess up to the question that got Rory's legs to the beat red and hairless state they were in now. It seemed no one was going to admit to it when Tenth cleared his throat, "That'd be me."

"Alright," Rory began, not without bitterness in his tone. "That's it. You deserve to take a shot for that one."

A few of the men chuckled at that and Jack said, "If he chickens out from his next truth or dare, then he'll have to take two shots just for poor Rory. Does that make you happy, hairless?"

There was more laughter from that comment as Tenth responded, "Fair enough."

So on went the game of truth or dare. It didn't take long before the first of Custiel's cards were read, and by none other than Jack himself.

"'If you could kiss anyone one in this room who would it be?'"

Sudden _ooh's_ filled the room at that and Jack's lips tugged up into a smile as he exhaled a few chuckles, "Well, let's not beat around the bush here. Surely most of you know I'm a _fair_ player for all the fields. So if one of you ladies were trying to trip me up with this question, nice try."

"Just answer the question, Jack," one of the men shouted out. Mickey from what Custiel could tell.

Jack laughed once more before teasing, "Well, I'm not saying it would be Custiel… But it would be Custiel."

Custiel could feel his eyes widen slightly as all the attention in the semicircle turned to him, watching him carefully for his reaction. Which many didn't seem to be completely let down by. He could've sworn that his cheeks were beginning to burn with the sting of a blush, which made him feel even more put on the spot by this. He then realized everyone was expecting him to say something.

Swallowing roughly, Custiel fumbled, "Oh, ah, I… Thanks, I think?"

All the males in the room bust out at that, including Tenth, much to Custiel's annoyance. Jack's eyebrow rose suggestively, his playful smile never leaving, "Is that permission I hear?"

"Wh-what?!" Custiel's eyes blinked quickly, knowing he must've absolutely been blushing. "I never said that!"

Jack joined in with the laughs of the group, "That sure sounded like permission to me. Should I give it a go?"

"Definitely sounded like permission," Tenth was the first to agree, causing Custiel to turn his head to him, face contorting into incredulousness. Of course he would. Tenth was probably doing this to just increase Custiel's embarrassment. And he did his job. All the guys just agreed, laughing at Custiel and even giving encouraging hoots. Custiel just shook his head as he looked back to Jack, still completely flustered.

"Well, if you're just going to refuse," Jack suggested, perhaps even acting slightly dejected by it, "then you've got to take two shots. Take it or leave it."

Custiel's eyes looked over to two of the filled shot glasses, dreading either of the options. On one hand, he could share a kiss with Jack. And it's not that he didn't like Jack, Jack was alright. He just didn't, as Jack put it, _played for that team_. But on the other hand, he could take two shots of the potent Vodka. He could barely handle _one_, let alone _three_. But he knew Tenth would possibly never let him live it down if he took the kiss from Jack. Then again, when did his brother let him live down _anything_ in his life?

Giving a sigh, Custiel gave in, "Give me the shots."

There were several booing and dejected sounds coming from the group of men, as they probably wanted to see the reaction from Custiel upon being kissed by Jack. Jack just seemed to shake his head as he grabbed a couple of the shots glasses and stepped toward Custiel, "Fine, fine, no worries. Not everyone can handle these dashing good looks."

Custiel didn't laugh along with some of the guys as he took the shot glasses, one in each hand. He took a few breaths, readying himself before swiftly downing one, cringing as it went down hard. Then immediately taking the other, swishing it back and down his throat. His face scrunched up, eyes screwing closed as he shook his head quickly. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to really handle another shot. So now he was doomed to accepting whatever truth or dare came his way next.

By the time the hat came around to Custiel, he could really feel the alcohol starting to affect him. He was such a lightweight when it came to alcoholic tolerance, and just after three shots, he was feeling the room start to spin if he wasn't focusing properly. He hadn't even realized that he'd grabbed a paper from the hat until he blinked hard a few times, the paper in front of him coming into better focus once he did.

Custiel read out, still sounding quite sober despite his mildly dizzy state, "'Go to the bathroom and change, you must "go commando" for the rest of the night.'"

There was the usual reaction from the group of guys, mostly of amusement. Custiel knew he couldn't deny this one. Even if it meant losing his underpants. He supposed it really could have been worse.

"Well, Custiel?" Jack asked, watching him expectantly. "Bathroom's over there," he pointed behind himself to a door in the corner, then over to the bar with the remaining shots, "another shot is over there. Your choice."

Giving a small sigh, Custiel stood, using every ounce of concentration he could, and made his way toward the bathroom. Once the men realized he was doing the dare, there were encouraging words and cheers tossed his way. At least they really seemed to do a good job of that kind of thing.

Once he was in the restroom, he unbuttoned his trousers, thinking to himself, _I can't believe I'm actually doing this._ Although really, he couldn't deny he was having fun. It was easily already a fun time, even with Tenth here. In fact, more often than not, he barely even noticed Tenth sitting next to him in their little circle. As he stripped himself of his boxers and began to put his trousers back on, he realized something. His dare still hadn't been read off. Which only meant that Tenth was going to get the dare to lick the floor. _Payback at last._

Zipping his white jeans back up, he clutched his black plaid boxers within his hand, glad he hadn't worn any kind of embarrassing ones today. No doubt everyone out there was waiting for him to return and see the proof of a dare done. So here he went, out that door and holding up his pants. The room erupted in more cheers and equal laughter and before he could say anything, someone snatched the pair from his hand and tossed it onto Rory's head.

Custiel couldn't stop the laugh as they forced it on Rory's head, feeling a bit sorry for him as he protested and tossed it away from him. There was a feeling back in Custiel's mind that he might not have gotten those back. Then as he sat back down in his seat, his thoughts trailed to Rory's trousers. Even they still hadn't been returned to him and his hairless legs looked as red as ever. Just where did they go? No one seemed to care.

Now came the moment of justice. Custiel didn't even consider the odds of how this particular card he wrote out just for Tenth actually made it to him past two rounds of truth or dare. But he could feel a barely contained smile threatening at his lips as Jack extended the hat to him and said, "Last one's all yours, Tenth."

Tenth just smiled at him, "Haven't chickened out once, not going to start now."

The room waited in silence as he read the card over and suddenly laughing, "Oh, I know exactly who wrote this one already."

Custiel could feel his smile growing at that, the guys urging him on to read it.

"'Lick the floor'," Tenth announced and it was soon followed by jeers of disgust and amusement alike. "Thanks for this one, Custiel."

Custiel nodded, "No problem, Tenth."

Tenth immediately dropped down to the floor and stuck his tongue out. Within one quick swipe, he licked the floor, all the men around throwing out more sounds of disgust and after a moment, clapping for him and cheering. Tenth held a look of mild disgust on his face as he reached over for a shot of Vodka, downing it to wash away the taste of the floor.

"I _don't_ recommend tasting the floor," Tenth commented which gained some laughter. "Absolutely not."

As Tenth took his seat once more, Jack pressed the fedora onto his head and got everyone attention once more, "Alright, we'll break for about-" he paused, checking the watch on his wrist "-40 minutes! Have any food or drink you like. There's a surprise on the way."

A few cheers at the sound of the surprise filled the air before the men began to mingle with one another once more, seeming to break back into their groups when Custiel and Tenth first arrived. Custiel stood and made his way over to Rory.

"What happened to your jeans, Rory?" Custiel asked, finding a few chuckles escaping past his lips.

Rory looked about and shrugged, "Hell if I know. I have a feeling Jack hid them, though. Same with your pants."

There was a sudden higher-than-usual voice cutting in from behind the bar, Jack intoning, "_Guilty as charged!_"

Custiel's chuckles increased slightly before he offered, "Look on the bright side! You've got smooth legs now."

"Ohh, Amy's never gonna stop asking now," Rory groaned, Custiel certainly not doubting that statement for a second.

"Well, good luck with that, mate," Custiel laughed as he nudged Rory.

Rory just sighed and shook his head, "Yeah, thanks, real encouraging, Custiel."

Custiel probably should've been more worried about the absence of his underpants. But really, he was just to that point of being inebriated that he couldn't find himself to care. Even if it meant losing a good pair of his favorite boxers.

"Custiel!"

Custiel's head turned as Tenth caught his attention, motioning him over to a couple of chairs. Even though he absolutely wanted to avoid Tenth, he knew it wouldn't be in his best interest to just ignore him. No doubt Tenth might tell Michelle if Custiel so much as disregarded a single thing Tenth did. Giving a small inaudible sigh, Custiel made his way over to Tenth, settling down in the seat closest to him.

Custiel hadn't even noticed right away that Tenth had been holding two pints of golden liquid and was offering one of them out to him. He felt like if he had anymore, he would be properly pissed.

Custiel began to refuse, "Tenth, I don't really think I should-"

"Come on, Custiel! It's a party. You can't not get drunk," Tenth urged, pressing the drink closer to him still.

"Yeah, well, I think I'm already close enough," Custiel threw back.

Tenth just laughed at that, "You've barely had any!"

Perhaps if Custiel wasn't already about halfway there, he would've refused. But in his current state, he couldn't find it in him to argue that much. So he took the pint and downed a few sips, relieved to find it was nowhere near as strong as the Vodka shots.

"Give me a break," he pleaded as he cleared his throat, the leftover taste of alcohol strong in his mouth. "I already lost my pants."

Tenth took a sip of his own drink, nearly spitting out his beverage at that comments, "Where'd they go?"

Custiel shook his head and laughed, "I have no bloody idea."

Both brothers seemed to go into a bit of a giggle fit at that, Custiel more so than Tenth. If Custiel were in his right mind, he might've realized that Tenth was probably laughing _at_ Custiel for having lost his pants from such a silly dare. But right then, he didn't care to figure out the details of that.

Taking another swig of his drink, Custiel motioned to all the conversing guys in the room, "So, d'you.. _Know_ any of these guys?"

Tenth gave a few nods, "Yeah, the majority, actually… Are you glad you came after all?"

Custiel considered that for a moment, surprising even himself by giving a little nod, "Yeah, yeah, I think… I think so."

Custiel couldn't quite finish his entire pint, although he'd gotten it down halfway. He was sure that he couldn't drink another drop, feeling pretty well drunk. As much as he didn't want to be, he noticed he definitely wasn't the only one. Even Tenth seemed to be a bit over the edge, and drunken laughter carried throughout the room. Custiel had never been properly pissed before, so it was an experience in its own right. There was a sense of drifting, an odd sort of disembodiment that kept his attention wandering. Only when he would really try he could focus in on something.

Just nearly 30 minutes had passed from their game of truth or dare, and Jack was trying to get everyone's attention once more. Jack didn't seem to be all that drunk, although Custiel felt as though he might've been missing details in this new state he was in.

"Guys! Great news, really _great_ news, the surprise came early," he seemed to have the largest grin on his face. "Come in, ladies!"

Music suddenly began to float within the room through unidentifiable speakers, something like techno with female vocals and low, hard beats. Strutting in on heels, almost to the beats, were five different women, all very pretty, maybe too pretty, thin, and dressed extremely scantily. On their makeup covered features were enticing and knowing smiles, much of the skin on their bodies exposed except for the vitals, which were covered with bikini tops and thongs alike. A couple even wore very short skirts, doing a better job in exposing more than they covered.

The moment Custiel laid his eyes on them, he could feel himself immediately go red, blood rushing directly to his face. He tried to look away from them as best he could, feeling an odd sort of bashfulness overcome him. He never was very good with these kinds of situations, and while he should've predicted this kind of thing would happen at a stag do, he somehow overlooked that possible detail. He could say that he respected women enough to not treat them like any sort of eye candy, as many of the men seemed to do as they hollered and cheered for the women.

Just as Custiel felt the blood rushing to his face, he also felt it rushing to a certain place that would make this situation even harder to deal with: his crotch. He fought it as best he could, maintaining a slight bit of control over himself. He had to wonder if it was the alcohol; he never was usually _this_ easily aroused.

Jack brought his attention away from fighting his natural urges as he draped both his arms over two of the women, "These lovely, voluptuous, and _beautiful_ ladies are gonna be part of our entertainment tonight. Stag gets first treatment, of course. Ladies? That one in his pants is your target. Have at him."

The girls giggled as two of them approached him, Rory looking to be absolutely flustered. But all the guys cheered on, whistled, and watched as one of them, a black short-haired woman, straddled her body over his lap and began to move her hips in swaying movements.

"I-I, ah, this is-" Rory began as he watched on, his hands flailing a bit, as he was unsure what to do with them, but he was cut off as the other girl standing beside him pressed her finger to his lips.

He then remained silent as she removed her top, placing the lacy garment on his head. The guys hooted once more and Custiel found he couldn't quite keep his eyes off of them. But who was to blame him? He was only a guy.

A guy with quite the visible and obvious erection underneath his trousers. He wondered why his pants were suddenly feeling restrictive beyond measure. He nearly spilled his drink as he jumped, but he was sure to place his cup on the nearest table. He'd never gotten an erection _this_ quickly! And certainly not this _strong_ of one! What was going on with him?! He had to wonder if it was the alcohol taking its effects, but even then, shouldn't he have had a little more control over this?

Tenth then took notice as Custiel placed his hands over his crotch, trying to press down his manhood, as uncomfortable that was, "You alright over there, Custiel?"

Custiel's head whipped to Tenth as he nodded quickly, trying to cover, "Y-yeah, I'm fine.. I'm fine, jus'- absolutely f-fine!"

Custiel had been so busy trying to cover his embarrassing erection that he hadn't noticed the strippers had started attending to the other men within the room, the heavily beat-influenced music prompting the sway of their hips. He hadn't even noticed right away as Tenth called over a stripper, much to Custiel's dismay.

Her hair was long, straight, and blonde, her body just as perfect and beautiful as the others, and, of course, barely concealed by the bikini top and thong.

"I think my brother over here needs some… Help," Tenth indicated over to Custiel who was still doing a terrible job of concealing his arousal bulging against his white jeans.

Custiel quickly looked over to Tenth to protest when Tenth whispered his way, just loud enough for him to catch, "Oh, and I may have slipped some Viagra into your drink. You can thank me later."

Hazel eyes widened considerably, suddenly feeling absolutely betrayed. But then again, could he really be surprised? No. He absolutely couldn't. It was just within Tenth's ballpark to pull a prank like this on him. If it could even be called a prank. This was just cruel. No wonder he'd gotten so easily aroused.

Custiel was about to protest when he felt the blonde woman straddle herself onto Custiel's lap, the curve of her lips inviting, suggestive, as was her soothing and warm tone, "Well, aren't you just a _cutie_." She lightly swayed her hips over his crotch, "I can definitely help you with that, _big boy._"

Custiel began to shake his head slightly, arms out to each side, unsure what to do, "No, no, th-this isn't what.. What it looks like!"

The girl giggled sweetly, her hands running slowly over his chest, "Oh, I know exactly what it looks like."

Opening his mouth to protest once more, Custiel didn't get the words out in time as he felt her hands come into contact with his concealed erection, the words caught in his throat and coming out instead as a small noise of pleasure. He found he was unable to continue his protest as her hands continued to rub over the clothed hardness. He swallowed roughly, the pleasure filling his mind quickly and without any sort of relent.

He was then introduced to a new world of pleasure as she placed her hands on his shoulders and began to grind her hips against his manhood. Custiel knew somewhere in his mind he should've been more declining of this action. That he should've refused this because it just wasn't him to get this sort of thing from a stripper. It was completely unlike him and he knew he'd probably regret this. But that was a part of his mind that was far away from this happenstance. Unreachable and with no power over his pleasure-seeking mind.

"My, you really are _hard_," she giggled, bringing Custiel out of his daze for just a moment. She paused, removing her top and draping it around his neck with that daring smile still tainting her full lips. "Don't worry, I'm gonna make you feel _good,_ honey."

Custiel could feel his breath catch in his throat as she unbuttoned his trousers and slipped her hand within his pants, her soft fingertips coming in contact with his stiff manhood. She gave a small, playful gasp, "Going commando? How brave."

She was skilled. That much Custiel could tell as she began moving her hand along his aroused flesh again and again, almost seamlessly. She still somehow managed to keep both her hand and his erection beneath his jeans, the pleasure overtaking his mind in strong waves.

"I-it wa-was," Custiel began trying to explain why exactly he didn't have his underpants on, but it simply stopped short and a strained moan came from his throat. The woman sped up her actions along his entire length, shushing him as she did so. He was sadly in no state to complain.

It seemed just as quickly as the treatment had begun, he could feel it coming to an end. Just as she began to grind her hips along his lap, he could feel his orgasm nearing. There came a low and deep groan of satisfaction as her actions toppled him over the edge, his seed releasing right within his trousers.

Perhaps if he were more in his right mind, he would've cared about getting semen stained on the inside of his jeans, but at that moment in time, he didn't care. He didn't plan on not caring, but here he was, having received a handjob from a stripper at a stag do, and little did he know, off to the side, was Tenth with his phone, capturing the very moment on his phone with a few simple pictures.


	9. Hangover

**/ / Super duper sorry this this update took longer than usual, not quite sure what happened, honestly. Hopefully it won't become a usual thing. But I just wanted to thank everyone for their awesome support on this fic and I'm so glad you all enjoy! :)**

* * *

There was a distant pounding, almost like a banging, but it wasn't the kind that could be heard. It was felt. And it only grew in its frequency as the veil of sleep was being lifted from Custiel's mind. The pounding was in his head, gnawing at his nerves and sending shockwaves of thudding pain throughout his entire skull. A husky and heavy groan escaped his mouth as he lifted his head, slowly but surely, to see he was on his couch in his flat. Face down, dark blue pillow right in front of him, and perhaps even a dried line of drool resting on his chin.

He felt horrible. Never had he felt this utterly terrible. Well, except that one time he'd gotten the flu when he was roughly 16. But this was only so much worse. He blinked his eyes several times, the fading light streaming in from the blinded windows seeming much brighter than they rightfully should've been.

No doubt, he was entirely hungover. His mind tried to grasp at what memories it could as he attempted to push himself up. It was no good. He gave up and settled for remaining face down on the couch, another muffled groan coming from his lungs. The events of the previous night came rushing back to him, although in a bit of a jumbled mess, it was still there.

Truth or dare, the Vodka shots, he lost his pants, got drunk, and then… Custiel nearly gave another groan, this time one of annoyance and disgust. The goddamned Viagra stunt Tenth pulled on him. He wished the phrase 'couldn't believe it' would apply, but he really believed Tenth would do that to him.

A sudden ringing filled the room in combination with short bursts of vibration on the coffee table. Custiel's head turned to see his mobile was ringing on the table next to him. He contemplated not answering, but had a feeling he might could regret doing that. So he extended his left arm out, fingers trying to grab for the ringing device. After a bit more stretching, and nearly falling off the bed, he was successful. He was quick to answer before it could turn over to voicemail.

"Ah.. Hello," Custiel managed, his voice sounding foreign even to him. It was low, husky, groggy, and held hints of the pain racking through his brain.

"Custiel?"

He'd nearly shot up at the sound of Michelle's voice on the other end, realizing that he didn't seem to learn his lesson in check the caller ID after all. He pushed himself up slightly, enough so his voice would no longer be obstructed by the pillow and tried to clear his throat.

He gave another attempt, trying to sound better than he was, but not succeeding very well, "Ah, Michelle, hi, em… What's up?"

"Are ya okay?"

"Okay?" Custiel questioned, seeming confused, but knowing she must've caught onto how horrible he sounded. "'Course I'm okay, I'm… Great." Well that was _extremely_ convincing.

There was only a short silence before her reply came, "Ya aren't hungover… Are ya?"

Damn, how'd she guess that? Then again, she wasn't stupid. Surely she could conclude he'd drank at the stag party. He contemplated for a second whether he should brush off her claim or just come clean.

He gave a groaning sigh, knowing there wasn't really any point in lying to her, "Well… Kind of."

"Kind of?" There was a small halfhearted giggle. "Ya sound way more than _kind of_."

"Alright, alright," Custiel rubbed his free hand over his face. "Kind of _really_ hungover."

A slight indication of a smile seeped into her tone, "I didn't think ya were the type."

"Yeah, neither did I…" Custiel agreed, not bothering to cover the horrible state of his voice.

"What're ya doin' for the rest of the day?"

That question caught him off guard. He hadn't really thought about it. In fact, he'd barely even contemplated just how he was going to get off this couch in the near future. Maybe he'd even have to spend years right here just to work this hangover out of his system; it certainly felt like he'd never be over it.

But Custiel just raised his eyebrows and answered, "Apart from stopping the banging in my head? Nothing. Why?"

"I was just thinkin' 'bout comin' over and helpin' ya try to get over that hangover," Michelle suggested, much to Custiel's pleasant surprise. "Sound good?"

"M'not sure…" Custiel contemplated this, truly unsure despite being happy she wanted to come over. "Dunno if you'd want to be 'round me. Not exactly in top form, y'know."

A slight pause came from Michelle before she offered, "If ya just don't want me to come over, I mean, that's fine too ya know."

Custiel nearly berated himself for giving her that impression. "No! No, I didn't mean it like that. I _do_ want you to come. Just saying I might not be, well… M'sure you get why. I'd love for you to come."

Michelle's voice seemed to uplift at this, "Really? Are ya sure?"

Custiel tried his best to smile through the headache that continued to pervade his head, "'Course I'm sure."

"When would be best?" Michelle asked with a renewed sort of excitement in her tone.

Custiel pulled his mobile away momentarily to look at the time. Almost six in the evening. Returning the mobile to his ear, he confirmed, "'Bout an hour?"

He could tell when her smile grew, "Great! Just text me your address and I'll see ya then."

"Brilliant. See you soon."

_Click._

The moment he pulled his mobile away from his ear, his head fell, face planting itself back within the pillow. Perhaps a little too quickly, a large thud resonating through his head at that, to which he groaned loudly and painfully. His thoughts then returned back to where they'd been before Michelle had called. The Viagra… Should he tell Michelle about what he did?

He was conflicted. There was such an urge to tell her what he'd done, to put a little dirt onto Tenth's name in her perspective. Anything to muck up his reputation, at least a little bit. Call it a lifelong goal. But on the other hand, if he told her of this, he'd have to explain further. Viagra didn't cause _instant_ erections, after all, so he'd have to explain just what made him, well…

There was no way he'd ever want to have to explain that situation to Michelle. For so many reasons. Besides, what was it Tenth said? _'What happens at a stag stays at a stag'_? He supposed it would have to be that way.

Pulling his face up from the pillow once more, he promptly texted Michelle his address, having nearly forgotten to do so. After pressing send, he figured he might as well attempt to get up and shower, something to get him ready for Michelle to show up. Maybe the warm water would help him a bit. And possibly some aspirin afterward. Definitely aspirin. Giving himself one final, silent encouragement, he pushed his body up, seemingly quite a task all on its own.

Just as he was sitting up, there came a sudden nausea in the pit of his stomach and it consumed him entirely. It hit him strong, fast, and without warning, prompting him to bolt up from the couch (nearly stumbling and falling in the process) and to dart to the restroom. He could feel the bile rising from his stomach, up his chest, and just as he leaned over the toilet, it all came up and out. The sour and putrid tasting remains of alcohol and whatever else he may have consumed the night before made its journey out his mouth after several heaves, leaving him to give another dry retch before the urge stopped.

He slumped to his knees as he gave a few coughs, spitting out any leftover in his mouth. As if the headache weren't enough, he just _had_ to throw everything up. Of course. The disgusting, muted colors of liquid nearly made him want to hurl again before he flushed, giving the umpteenth groan today.

"_Dammit_," he cursed as the bile was washed away and he attempted to stand, starting to strip his clothes from himself. "Never bloody drinking again."

Tossing his trousers to the side, he realized he still didn't have his underpants, as he predicted. So much for one of his favorite pairs. It wasn't long before he was within the shower, the hot water rushing over his body causing an almost instantaneous ease. Not that it took all the pain away, but it certainly helped in ways he couldn't explain. Perhaps there were even some parts placebo, but he couldn't care less, letting the water run over him without much movement.

His mind then trailed to the very place he wanted to forget forever: the stupid handjob. He felt shame rush over him at the memory, hating that he wasn't able to protest more. There was just no possible way he could say no in that state. The alcohol heavily deterred what should've been a proper response. Even more so because of what Tenth did to him. He could feel his hands tighten at his sides, the image of Tenth in his mind causing an anger to flare within him.

After the handjob, he found himself avoiding Tenth at the party for obvious reasons. He remembered wanting to leave, but knowing he couldn't do that to Rory. Rory was his mate and he wouldn't let Tenth drive him away from that. Another game of truth or dare was played with the strippers, in which Custiel had gotten a dare to stick his face into one of the women's breasts. He absolutely opted out, of course. He had enough regrets for the night as it was without having to add _that_ to the pile.

Following that, however… A lot was a blank sort of blur. He couldn't even rightly remember what time the party had ended, if it ended at all. But Custiel distinctly remembered Tenth making sure he helped get him back into his flat. And that's where he simply passed out onto the couch. From what he could recall, Tenth hadn't gotten nearly as drunk as Custiel had. Then again, Custiel knew he was a lightweight when it came to alcohol and Tenth had more tolerance. Either that, or he just didn't drink as much.

Whatever it was, he didn't feel the need to be thankful for Tenth getting him into his flat safely. Probably thought he was doing a brotherly deed, but the Viagra '_prank'_ ruined _brotherly_ beyond saving. Not that it was very sanctified before that...

Before he could spend too long within the shower, knowing he couldn't waste all his time in here as Michelle would be along soon, he got out and dried himself off. He already felt a bit better than he had before he got in, making him even more eager to down some aspirin to ward off the horrid pounding in his head. Throwing up certainly didn't help him to feel any better, but maybe if he was lucky, it'd be the only instance for this hangover.

He wasted no more time in dressing himself; black jeans, long-sleeved black and white striped shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He would've much rather worn something more comfortable, but with Michelle showing up, he felt the need to look at least somewhat presentable. As presentable as he could for being completely hungover.

Stepping out from his bedroom, he made his way into the small kitchen, not realizing just how parched he was until he'd begun to dig through his medicine cabinet for the bottle of aspirin. He made quick work of grabbing a couple of the pills then filling a glass with water, downing both pills and a majority of the liquid in almost one swig. He was relieved as the water soothed his throat as it went down, such a contrast to how stinging the Vodka shots had been the night before. If he never had another taste of Vodka in his life, he'd certainly be better off.

Custiel's eyes then scanned his flat and realized that it wasn't in the best state for visitors. Especially not Michelle. There were bits of trash here and there and dirty clothes strewn in inappropriate places. As he tossed the cup into the sink, he reached over to his phone still on the coffee table, noting he only had roughly 15 minutes to clean up. And so he went to work, despite how terrible he still felt.

Stray trash went in trash bags, dirty clothes found its home temporarily in his closet. His movements were still sluggish despite how quickly he knew he needed to finish, but after tossing a can into the trash, he'd gotten the job done. His eyes quickly scanned the living room, making sure he hadn't missed anything. That was when he'd noticed all his books lining his shelf.

Michelle certainly couldn't have known what kinds of books he usually liked to read. He didn't start getting heavily into books until he was nearly 17, making it a bit of an embarrassing sight for if she were to spot them. So with surely only minutes left, he gathered them up within his arms and tossed them into the closet in his bedroom, hating he'd have to reshelf them later but knew it was better than leaving them there.

Just as he closed the closet, there were a few raps at his door, signaling Michelle's arrival. Pushing back any and all traces of nervousness, he made his way to the front door, giving a small pirouette to double check everything looked presentable. Seeming pleased, he reassured himself that everything was going to be fine, and finally opened the door.

A smile was quick to find its way to both Custiel and Michelle's faces, although more so on Michelle's. Without the aspirin having taken full effect, and the effort of cleaning so quickly, Custiel was still feeling quite bland. Michelle looked great as usual; hair straightened, white blouse with a tank top underneath and denim skinny jeans.

"Right on time," Custiel said before Michelle leaned in and wrapped her arms around him. He welcomed the embrace, returning it warmly. As they pulled away, he made an effort to give her a bigger smile, "Never unpunctual, you."

Michelle gave a small laugh, her voice filled with underlying hints of worry, "Ya feelin' any better since we talked?"

Custiel just huffed a light chuckle, "It's only been an hour, y'know."

"So is that a yes? Or a no?" she urged with a small raise of an eyebrow.

He shrugged somewhat, "Well, more no. But I took something to help, so I'll be fine. Mostly_._"

Custiel stepped aside to motion her in, Michelle taking the cue and stepping into his flat. He watched her as she looked about the place, seeming to take it all in and no doubt silently coming to a conclusion that this place wasn't nearly as nice as her own. Not that she'd comment on it, he was sure. But they both knew it was true.

Walking into the living room, Custiel's attention was caught by a sock that he'd somehow missed, laying there draped on the armrest of his couch. His eyes quickly snapped to Michelle, then back to the sock, hoping she didn't see it. And before she could even get a glimpse of it, he reached over and snagged it. Right on time, too.

Michelle turned her attention back to Custiel just as he hid the sock behind his back as inconspicuously as he could, "I like it."

"Ah, like it?" Custiel asked, mind a bit preoccupied with keeping the sock hidden. As silly as it was.

Michelle gave a giggle at that as if it were obvious, "Your flat. I like it."

"Oh!" Custiel tried to recover. "Right, right, ah… Thanks. S'not much, but… It's.. _Something._" That was smooth.

Michelle just smiled, perhaps a smile of amusement, before she moved over to the bookshelf ironically devoid of books, "Ya always keep these shelves empty?"

Before she could look back his way, he swiftly tossed the sock behind his couch, pleased that it went completely out of sight before Michelle turned her attention back to him. She was expecting an answer.

Custiel folded his hands together before him a bit nervously, not anticipating that she'd even really notice it was empty, "Yeah, I just like it for… For decoration." Did people do that? He hoped she wouldn't look into that too much.

That got a bit of a laugh from Michelle, "For decoration? Fair enough."

This was going straight down the awkward road and he knew it'd only keep going that way if he didn't steer it somewhere else. So what was the best way to do that?

"So, Michelle, would y'like some tea? I can make us some," Custiel offered, hoping it would be the more proper way to start out things. Besides, he could certainly go for some himself.

Michelle turned her full attention back to him with a growing smile, seeming complacent with her little tour of his flat, "That sounds perfect, I'd love some."

Custiel returned her smile, honestly relieved, and gave a nod, "Brilliant, I'll make some right away."

He was happy to have a task other than just standing about. And a task that was so routine, he couldn't help but fall into it naturally. Perhaps even for a moment he forgot about his hangover, the pounding in his head already beginning to subside as he filled the kettle with water. Thank God for aspirin.

He'd barely noticed that Michelle had actually walked over and was standing in the small kitchen with him, leaning against the counter, until she spoke, "So how was the stag party?"

Custiel nearly cringed at the reminder, almost having it washed from his mind with all the distractions. He answered with just slight hesitation, "It was, ah.. Okay."

"Just okay?" Michelle pressed, her arms crossing over her torso. She sounded even genuinely deflated by that. Guess she really was expecting that party to be the end all of Tenth and Custiel's issues.

Custiel turned a glance to her for just a moment before nodding and setting the kettle on the stove, responding as he lit it up, "Just okay."

She didn't appear to be very satisfied with that, "Did ya at least have fun?"

"Something like that," Custiel said with a sigh.

There was a short silence that prompted Custiel to turn his attention back over to her, her smile that was there moments ago now faded into a pursed line, her eyebrows somewhat pulled together. He knew that look. She was worried.

"Custiel, did somethin' bad happen?"

Custiel could feel a small rise of panic within him, one he's quick to chase away. He swallowed and gave her the best reassuring smile her could, shaking his head as he did so, "No, nothing happened, s'just…" Just what? He had to cover somehow.

"S'just not my type of thing," he finally said slowly, pleased with himself as it wasn't a complete and total lie. It really wasn't his type of thing. He'd be surprised if he ever went to another stag night again. Even more so if Tenth would be anywhere near it.

Michelle's eyebrows seemed to relax, the curve of her lips dipping into a small smile as she nodded, "I s'pose I can understand that."

The thought that maybe Tenth had told her about what had happened suddenly began to nag at his mind, begging him to find out, "So, have you, ah… Talked to Tenth lately?"

This question seemed to take her a bit unexpectedly, but she responded nonetheless, "Yea, I talked to him this mornin'."

"And?" Custiel urged, knowing by the lack of her mentioning what happened a good sign, but he wanted to be sure.

She tilted her head forward slightly, confusion beginning to crawl along her features, "And? And what?"

"And…" Custiel paused, clearing his throat and looking down. "And nothing, jus' thought that there was gonna be more to that."

Did that sound creepy? Like he wanted to know just what they'd talked about? Maybe. And it worried him she might've thought that. But Michelle's tone suggested otherwise, "He didn't sound anywhere near as hungover as ya do."

Custiel gave a small laugh at that, finally looking back up to her, "Yeah, alcohol 'n I aren't really good friends."

"I noticed," she laughed along. "Maybe ya should ditch alcohol for good then."

"Maybe I should," Custiel agreed with a wider smile, glad that he didn't come off as obtrusive with his previous question.

Custiel watched with growing confusion as she turned to his fridge and opened the freezer portion at the top.

She even giggled, perhaps to herself. "Hey Custiel," she paused, looking over to him. "Remember how when we were kids, we'd always raid each others' fridges when we'd hang out?"

Suddenly Custiel understood and laughed fondly at the memory, "'Course I remember."

There was a sudden gasp as Michelle turned her attention back to the freezer, her eyes obviously captured by something. She reached in, bringing out a box of fish fingers. Her eyes quickly shifted back to Custiel, "Oh my God, don't tell me ya still eat fish fingers and custard."

Her reaction was completely entertaining and he couldn't stop the louder laugh that escaped his lungs, "I still eat fish fingers 'n custard."

Michelle giggled and shook her head, "Ya are _so_ weird."

"Oi! You're even weirder for not liking them," Custiel teased back, feeling as though his hangover was a problem that had no right to exist in this moment.

A small yelp of playful pain sounded from Custiel's mouth as Michelle smacked him on the arm with the freezing cold box, "Yea, and this comin' from a guy who thinks cheesepie is just _'alright'_."

"You should try 'em again," Custiel offered with a chuckle. "Your tastes might've changed. Never know."

Her face scrunched up at that, "Ew, I don't know 'bout that."

Custiel practically smirked, playfulness in his hazel eyes, "Too scared to find out?"

"Is that a challenge?" Michelle questioned with slyness in her tone.

"Well maybe it is," Custiel offered smugly.

Without another word, Michelle then reached into the fridge once more to grab the box of custard, looking back to him with a challenging smile, "Alright, you're on. I'll prove to ya it's still gross, _Custard Man._"

The playful competitive tension between the two could be felt in the small kitchen as Michelle prepared the fish fingers and custard while Custiel finished making the tea, a smile easily found on each of their faces. Something Custiel didn't expect at all for today, especially with the hangover looming over his head. He knew that if Michelle hadn't come at all, there was a strong guarantee today would've been absolutely miserable. But as they continued and eventually finished their tasks, Custiel could see how great of a choice it was to accept Michelle's proposal. He was properly having fun.

Pushing the plate of three fish fingers over to Michelle, everything was ready for their little bet. Custiel had a plate of his own and a small bowl of custard as well as his own cup of tea. Michelle had a matching set of her own and she looked at the food with a bit of hesitancy.

Custiel grabbed a fish finger from his own plate, Michelle doing the same as he spoke, "Still not too late to back out if you're too scared."

Michelle's features quickly returned back to the determination she once held, the corner of her lips tugged upward, "Me? Scared? I don't think so."

Custiel laughed and dipped his fish finger into the custard as Michelle did so, "Ready?"

"Ready to prove ya _wrong_," she said confidently, all traces of hesitance gone.

With one last moment of pause, they each bit into the food, Custiel obviously finding it enjoyable. He watched Michelle's reaction carefully, searching for any hints of just what she thought. There wasn't the completely disgusted reaction that she might've been hoping on which only made Custiel smile widely as he swallowed his bite.

"Well," Michelle began as she swallowed, contemplating her answer, which was evident enough by her expression. "Alright, it's not _as bad_ as it used to be."

Custiel gave a triumphant laugh to which Michelle tried to clarify, "That doesn't mean I love it! It's just…" She paused, imitating Custiel's voice then, "_Alright._"

Another more genuine laugh escaped Custiel's throat, skeptical eyebrows raising a bit, "Uh huh, m'sure."

Michelle was actually about to dip her half eaten fish finger back within her bowl of custard when Custiel swooped in with his own, dipping it into her bowl and eating it quickly. She protested with a gasp, "Eww, now there's Custiel germs in my custard!"

Custiel couldn't stop the laugh from his lungs and soon Michelle had joined in too. He could certainly say that he was pleased Michelle didn't find this treat so disgusting anymore. Almost like he'd been right all along and it just took some time to be proven right. Michelle may have claimed it was just alright, but by the fact that she'd ate all her fish fingers, as well as Custiel did, he knew she liked them more than she may have let on. And that was fine by him. The evidence was good enough for him.

Pressing the plate away, Michelle leaned her elbows onto the counter, turning her attention to Custiel with a much more serious tone, "So are ya feelin' any better now?"

Custiel leaned the small of his back against a corner of the counter, palms resting along the edges as he nodded, "Yeah, I am. Headache's still there, but for the most part… Better."

Michelle reached for her cup of tea and took a sip with a smile, "Good, I'm glad."

Something that had perplexed him ever since it happened began to plague Custiel's mind again. That night he went to Club Gascon with Michelle and Tenth, the very last thing she said to him before they parted… She thanked him. More than that, she gave him a kiss on the cheek. It was extremely sincere too, and as much as he wanted to, he couldn't completely figure out what was behind that. He'd always been terrible decoding those kinds of things.

"Michelle, about Wednesday, at Club Gascon…" Custiel began a bit hesitantly, Michelle's eyes watching him expectantly. "Why'd you thank me?"

Michelle's lower lip puckered inward as she bit it, a bashful smile crossing her features as she ducked her head with a huff of a laugh. She looked back up, flicking a small portion of her bangs from her eyes as she spoke, "I was thankin' ya for handlin' that situation with Tenth so well. I can tell you're tryin' to get along with him and… I appreciate that."

Understanding overcame Custiel as he found himself smiling back and feeling happiness swell within him at that, all too glad to see she'd noticed he was trying. Even if last night set things back quite a lot, he wouldn't stop trying for her.

"Well, I want to make you happy, so 'course," he finally said, smile never fading.

Michelle giggled, "You're doin' a good job of it."

The curve of Custiel lips fell just slight as he asked, "What d'you think of Tenth? Honestly?"

Michelle quickly blinked a few times, her smile thinning out into an expression of surprise, taken off guard by the question. It even took Custiel off guard a bit, his mind having been chewing the question over for so long now, it just finally escaped.

Custiel watched her anxiously, hoping that maybe he didn't cross any lines, but Michelle just seemed to be mildly put on the spot, "I think… He's really nice and courteous."

Of course. Custiel shouldn't have expected any different. That was just everyone's response. But she continued.

"He treats me really well," she remarked, her smile returning. "And even though I haven't known him long, I feel like he's already a good friend. I'm comfortable around him."

Custiel almost wished he hadn't asked. In the back of his mind, he knew this answer. He'd been hearing that answer his whole life. But call it a stubborn curiosity that drove him to still believe there had to be someone that would give a different answer. He knew he shouldn't be dejected by this, for so many reasons he shouldn't have. Yet he still was.

He tried to hide that as best he could with a forced smile and a nod of his head, "Ah, good, that's… Good."

Michelle's smile fell at that as she obviously picked up on his tone, her eyebrows pulling together somewhat, "Ya two really don't get along, do ya?"

Custiel sighed and looked down at the cup of tea in his hands, "I think it'd be better if we jus' didn't talk 'bout it…"

He didn't look up from his tea, but he could tell from her continued silence that she must've agreed to let it go. He hated that he couldn't properly talk about his relationship with his brother without withdrawing into himself or just flat out refusing to admit to anything. He had a feeling that one day he may be forced to face it all. But he could only hope that would never come. He'd just keep running from it. For as long as he possibly could.

"That's one thing ya two have in common," Michelle commented silently, prompting Custiel to look back up to her.

His thin eyebrows hinted at his confusion, her statement vague and causing him to wonder just what the hell they ever shared in common, "What d'you mean?"

Michelle smiled over at him, "I can feel comfortable around both of ya."

Custiel's lips parted very slightly before the corners of his lips twitched into a small smile, "Yeah?"

"Yea. I've always felt comfortable around ya since we were kids."

Custiel gave a feather light chuckle, "Even after the chocolate egg argument?"

That got a laugh out of Michelle, her lips pulling into a wider smile, "Even after the chocolate egg argument."

Their shared laughter was short lived before Michelle's mobile began to ring within her purse on the counter. Placing her tea back down, she reached over and fished out the ringing device, answering before it could go to voicemail.

"Hello?"

Custiel took another sip of his tea, watching her curiously and wondering who was on the other line. But without her telling him, he's sure he wouldn't be able to figure it out. Nor does he think he really should. None of his business anyway.

"Yea, of course I'll be there," Michelle confirmed to the caller with lightness to her tone. "I'm just hangin' out with Custiel right now."

Custiel's brow furrowed at the mention of his name, his mind beginning to wonder… That maybe on the other end was Tenth. He wouldn't be in the least bit surprised.

Michelle laughed and confirmed Custiel's suspicions as she looked over to him, "Your brother says hello, Custiel."

Nope, not surprised at all. Custiel nearly grimaced at that, but just forced a thin smile, "_Hi._" And with that, he turned to the empty plates and bowls, beginning to put them away within the sink.

"He said hi," Michelle went on, her voice sounding unaffected by his obviously forced greeting.

As Custiel rinsed the dishes off, there was a silence from behind him and he almost wondered if Michelle had hung up on him. But that was proved to be untrue as she spoke again, "Okay, see ya there."

Reaching over, Custiel turned the running water off from the faucet, slowly turning to face her as he grabbed a dishtowel and dried his hands.

"I need to leave soon, gonna be meetin' Tenth for dinner," she explained as she replaced her mobile back into her purse.

"Oh," Custiel managed after a moment, the drying of his hands slowing momentarily before he tossed the rag away. "Okay."

Michelle sighed at his response, "I'm sorry."

Custiel quickly shook his head, not wanting her to apologize, "No, no, don't apologize, s'just… I thought we had more time."

She opened her mouth to respond but nothing came at first, her features obviously torn. That was then Custiel made a selfish decision to say, "You should just cancel on him 'n stay."

Michelle's face quickly turned to something resembling offense although it was muddled by confusion, "I made these plans with him this mornin', Custiel. I'm not just going to cancel on him."

"C'mon," Custiel urged, knowing somewhere in his mind he probably shouldn't, but he did anyway. "D'you even _want_ to go or d'you just feel _obligated_ to?"

Her brow creased with hints of frustration, "I _want_ to go with him. If I didn't, then I wouldn't have agreed in the first place."

He pressed even more, "We can watch a film or something, 'n I can make us somethi-"

"Custiel, _stop_," Michelle cut him off with clear indignation in her strong tone.

Custiel took a deep breath through his mouth before sealing his lips and exhaling deeply through his nose, one hand coming up and rubbing at his face before he admitted, "Sorry, m'sorry…"

Michelle shook her head, her expression a mixture of frustration and worry, "I get that ya want to spend time with me; I want to do that too. But it's almost like you're tryin' to make me choose you over him."

"Are you choosing _him_ over _me?_" Custiel blurt out before he could even contemplate it.

She shook her head again, perhaps a little more incredulously this time, "There's no _choosin'_ goin' on here! Ya are _both_ my friends. Why should I have to _choose?_"

Custiel bit onto his lower lip, knowing his questions and suggestions weren't being fair. They were completely selfish of him. He knew that…

"'Course, you're right, you're right, sorry…" Custiel gave in, fueling himself to attempt at watching what he said a little more closely. "Must be this, ah… Hangover. Making me grumpy or.. Something. M'sorry, you're right."

A silence passed for a short moment as Michelle stepped closer to him, worry taking over her eyes as the frustration disappeared, her tone more relaxed and quiet, "Custiel, ya have always been my best friend. Even after I moved… I'll never choose anyone over ya."

Custiel could feel his heart swell at her words, the sincerity in her blue depths nailing down the belief in her words within him. He nodded slowly, the corner of his lips tugging up just slightly, "Okay. I'm sorry."

She matched his smile then, "It's okay. Just don't forget that."

Custiel took a deep breath and let it out slowly, his thin eyebrows rising a bit, "We're okay?"

"We're okay," Michelle confirmed with a nod and smile, her arms finding themselves around his form just as his came around her own.

Custiel hated that she was going to be having dinner with Tenth _alone_, but there was nothing he could do about it. And he knew the sooner he'd just accept that, the better off things might be. But there was a part of him that felt like he was losing her to him. Even with her reassurances.

As they pulled away from one another, Michelle smiled fondly and remarked, "Your face is lookin' much better, by the way."

"Is it?" Custiel responded with a growing smile.

Michelle nodded at that, "Definitely. I bet it'll be all gone soon."

"Hope so," Custiel nodded as well, glad that she seemed to notice the bruises and cuts were already much more healed than the last time she'd seen him. "Well, don't let me keep you any longer. Don't want you to be late for dinner with Tenth."

"Oh yea," Michelle stepped over to grab her bag, placing it over her shoulder and walking to the door, Custiel following shortly behind. As Custiel opened the door for her, she stepped out and turned back to him, "I'll see ya at Tenth's flat on Thursday, right?"

Oh. _That._ Custiel had nearly forgotten about that. And almost wished he had forgotten about it completely. He didn't want to be anywhere near Tenth, not after what he'd done. But he knew it would only make Michelle happy to see him there and make an attempt to get along with his brother.

Giving an inaudible sigh, Custiel confirmed, "Ah, yeah, 'course. Thursday. See you then."

After they said the final goodbyes and after small waves, Custiel closed the door, left to his empty flat once more. He tried to push the thoughts of just where Michelle was headed next from his mind when suddenly… There was an intense and heavy bout of nausea that hit him. It was strong, heavy, and reminded him of when he'd first woken.

Making the same sprinting journey as before, he was soon leaning over his toilet, the fish fingers and custard making its way out from his system much quicker than it'd entered. He'd been so caught up in Michelle's presence, he didn't completely think the fact through that it'd possibly be a bad idea to eat so early after throwing up the first time. At least that didn't happen when Michelle was still here.

With a groan of disgust, he flushed and once more vowed to never go near alcohol again for as long as he bloody well lived.


	10. Nothing Solved

Each day of the week felt like the counting down of a wired bomb, set to explode the day Thursday came around. By the time Wednesday morning had ticked by, Custiel really felt like he was going to go crazy with the dread and anticipation of Thursday. Just one more day until the practically forced visit to Tenth's flat. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad if Michelle hadn't been going to be there too. But since Tenth _had_ to invite her along, to no doubt show off in one way or another, it added onto the stress. Because he had to try and get along with Tenth. There was no free range for glares or sarcastic responses. Nothing but perhaps acting the part of ideal brothers Michelle thought was supposed to be.

He had to remind himself to focus on the here and now. He seemed to be doing that a lot so far this week, each time jolting him back into reality for a few minutes only for him to phase out into imagining possibilities. The usual drone of work every day didn't seem to help that. But perhaps he was going to get lucky today…

Custiel stood, paced more the like, in his office of Mile Recruitments, the stack of briefing packets within his hands bearing the brunt of his tension. He flicked his dark grey suit sleeve back, the watch on his wrist indicating there was just a mere ten minutes left until the board meeting began and Ida was nowhere in sight. He'd been here for a good half hour, even set her coffee on the drink coaster that was sitting left center of her desk. No doubt it'd probably gone cold by now.

Before he began to think that maybe she'd called in today, there he spotted her; hair up, black pencil skirt with matching blouse and suit jacket, with the largest smile on her face he'd ever seen. He hadn't even _imagined_ her with this wide and genuine of a smile. It stopped him in his pacing, his mouth opening to say something, anything, but she beat him to that.

"_Lungbarrow_!" Ida beamed, her words almost in a sing song fashion as she bounded toward him and pat each of his cheeks. "You'll never guess _what!_"

Custiel blinked several times, the papers in his hands nearly forgotten in his sudden stupor, "Ahh… What?"

She gave a nearly dreamy sigh and then even giggled, "I feel like a completely new woman!"

"Uh…" Custiel tried, not really knowing what to say, leaning back out of her reach. "Ida?"

"Someone special's come into my life!" Ida went on, much to Custiel's dismay, although she didn't seem to notice his moving away. "And he's just _gorgeous_! My, if you could see him-"

"Ida, that-that's great, but," Custiel interjected as he nervously readjusted the papers in his grasp, fearing to interrupt but knowing it was necessary. "But there's a board meeting in ten minutes."

Although Custiel was worried this would cause her to turn back into her usual demanding and curt self, it did no such thing. She just continued as if nothing mattered, "Ohh, isn't that just _wonderful_, Lungbarrow?"

Custiel sighed, "Yeah, that's… Brilliant. But really, important board meeting. Less than ten minutes now. I've got the briefing packets all ready here."

He made an attempt to hand her the papers, but she sharply refused, "No, no! Don't ruin my day. _You_'ll carry them for me."

Grudgingly, he didn't argue, readjusting the papers, "Alright, but we should really-"

"Coffee, Lungbarrow. Black," she ordered as she stepped over to a filing cabinet and began rifling through the files within, picking out some here and there.

Custiel stuttered a bit at that, "I, ah… Already got your coffee, but it's.. It's probably already gone cold."

As she closed the drawer of papers, now holding a few folders within her hands, she turned back to him, "Then get me some more!"

"Right," Custiel nodded, actually a bit relieved she seemed to be off the subject of her _new man_. He could nearly groan at it. _Good luck to that bloke_, Custiel thought to himself as he poured her a new cup of coffee.

Just as he turned back around, grabbing the stack of briefing packets as he did so, he'd noticed she was already gone from the room. He was a bit confused for a moment and stood there, looking about for a sign of where she'd gone.

"Lungbarrow! How long does it take you to pour a damned cup of coffee?!"

Her voice calling from beyond the office door prompted him forward and out the doorway, spotting her with impatience riddled throughout her features. _That_ was the Ida he was used to.

Custiel tried to recover, "Sorry, I didn't-"

"Did you get my fax last week," she immediately asked, cutting him off as she began to walk toward the meeting room.

Custiel got the hint and followed her quick gait, trying to be careful not to drop her coffee or the stack of papers. He'd nearly forgotten about that fax, if he had to be honest. It seemed like a bad dream. Going to France for a week long business trip when he'd rather use that time to spend with Michelle.

"Ah, yeah, yeah, I did," he confirmed as they turned a corner, just barely maneuvering past a potted plant.

"Good," Ida barely even took her eyes off her course, her presence when she walked exuding an air of strong authority that always, quite frankly, intimidated Custiel. Especially when he'd first met her. Nightmares could be had about this woman. "There aren't going to be any problems, are there?"

Of course there were. But none that she would care to hear. So Custiel just shook his head even though he knew she wouldn't have seen it, several steps keeping her ahead of him, "'Course not, everything's… Absolutely great."

"I expected nothing less," she confirmed with that impenetrable tone of hers.

Throughout the meeting, which was important to coordinate how next week's trip was going to go, Custiel found himself growing more and more reluctant about this trip. He'd tried to put it off as long as he could, didn't even give it much of a thought, but with this meeting throwing it in his face again and again, that was a difficult task to keep up anymore. So he just had to face facts. Accept it like a grown up and deal with it. Which also meant telling Michelle about it, a conversation he didn't really want to have, but it could've been worse.

The meeting lasted the majority of the day, leaving little time left for him to be alone with Ida's bubbly mood still intact somehow. Something he was truly thankful for. He could only handle so much of that when he was so used to the opposite. He couldn't rightly tell whether that was really good… Or really bad. One way or another, he just hoped this wouldn't be a daily thing.

Between taking calls and filing papers for next week's trip, he learned much more about this _'new man'_ in Ida's life than he cared for. Apparently he was named Bill and he worked as a freelance writer along with being a fitness instructor on the side. She gushed on about National Geographic articles and fancy white wine, but Custiel was hardly listening. Just nodding when appropriate, agreeing when needed, and forcing questions when she seemed expectant of them. God, this practically made the visit to Tenth's flat look appealing.

After what felt like an eternity, Custiel was finally clocking out and within moments, he was out the doors of Mile Recruitments. A wave of relief hit him as he didn't have to deal with work until Friday. But in between now and then was just another event to hurdle over. He didn't have to think about that now, though. He just wanted to get back to his flat, make some tea, eat something, and watch some telly. Just something normal and uneventful.

But it seemed like he wasn't going to get his way today in any aspect. As he turned the last corner, the building holding his flat within sight, his mobile began to sound off within his pocket. Not thinking much of it at first, he fished for his mobile, looking to the caller ID. He stopped on the sidewalk, face screwing up into a scowl at the name. _Tenth._ It was completely beyond him what that arse wanted. And he nearly let it go unanswered.

Giving a heavy sigh, knowing he couldn't avoid Tenth forever, he answered sharply, "What the hell d'you want?"

"Well, hello to you too. What's gotten into _you?_" Tenth responded, sounding like he was almost completely ignorant. He wasn't dumb. He knew _exactly_ what was wrong.

Custiel huffed a sarcastic laugh, "Oh, I dunno, something like a little blue pill from my brother, the _prick_. Maybe _that's_ what's gotten into me."

"Funny you mention," Tenth went on with nearly no remorse in his tone. Perhaps a hint of offense for the name calling, but nothing to indicate he felt bad for the little stunt. "I called to talk to you 'bout that."

"What, to gloat 'n rub it in?" Custiel guessed.

"No, I'd just rather we not have this talk tomorrow at my flat," he responded as if it were a matter-of-fact thing. "If it'd make you feel better, I'll make it up to you."

Where the hell was _that_ coming from? Custiel sighed and nearly mumbled, "Not sure I believe you'd do it just to make me feel better."

"Come on, Custiel, give me a chance here," Tenth urged on, much to Custiel's confusion. What was he even trying to do? Why so keen on trying to make things up to him now?

Custiel shook his head, "You're running out of chances…"

"I'll take that as a yes, then?"

Custiel's eyebrows furrowed together in frustration, "I didn't say that."

There was an obvious sort of cheeky smile in Tenth's tone, "But you didn't say no, either."

Could this man get any more vexing? He wanted to refuse, more than anything he just wanted to shoot him down. But there was that looming chance if he'd refuse Tenth's attempt at being nice, or whatever the hell he was trying right now, then Michelle might hear about it. And so much for the attempts he'd been putting forth to get along with Tenth for her. How did he allow himself to get into this mess? Custiel let out a curt sigh as he rubbed his hand over his eyes, "_Fine._ What d'you have in mind?"

"Free to meet, are you?" Tenth asked with a clear victory in his words. "I'll buy you dinner."

Custiel nearly scoffed, "I don't need you to buy me dinner."

"Alright then, you can buy your own dinner. Don't say I didn't offer. Can we still meet to talk?"

There was really no way out of this, so Custiel just gave in, "I'll be waiting at Nero's. Be there in thirty."

And with that, Custiel hung up on him. So much for having a normal rest of the day. As he slipped his mobile into his pocket, he began toward Nero's, the place within easy walking distance. Custiel couldn't help but feel like there was some sort of ulterior motive to Tenth wanting to meet with him. Tenth had never apologized for any sort of pranks he'd pulled in the past. And even though this time was a little more severe than the others, he still felt like there was something more he was missing to it all. He didn't like it. Not at all.

Little did Custiel notice, it seemed the late March air had been a bit colder today. He could feel the difference as he walked into Nero's, the interior a bit warmer than it was outside. Perhaps he hadn't noticed because his mind had been so focused on other things than the weather. Even now he couldn't be completely bothered by it as he ordered himself a cup of peppermint tea and sat within the same seat he had when he'd met Rory here last. He had to wonder that if he'd never met Rory here, that stupid night never would've happened for him.

Custiel's fingers lightly pushed around his cup on the table, his eyes boring into the warm liquid as it rippled about. He supposed Tenth was right about one thing; it'd be better to meet with him and get this conversation out of the way today rather than tomorrow. With this being the first time he'd seen him since the stag party and all.

Just as he took another sip of his tea, there he noticed Tenth entering through the door. It didn't take him long to spot Custiel and he was soon on his way over to the small table. His pinstriped suit was a tinge of brown today, a very long overcoat covering him from the colder air.

"Ah, you're not nearly an hour late this time. I think I'm proud," Custiel shot sarcastically his way as he sat down in the chair across from him.

Tenth raised his eyebrows a bit, a goading smile playing at his lips, "Well, you know me. Always like to be punctual when I can."

That got nothing but a blatantly annoyed stare from Custiel, his lips pressed together in a firm line. He wouldn't take the bait. Not this time. And Tenth seemed to get that hint.

"Is what happened at the stag really what's got you so pissed?" Tenth asked a bit more seriously this time.

Custiel nearly laughed, not taking the question to be genuine, "No, not at all."

Tenth's left eyebrow rose high, "Did that really bother you? _Really?_ I'm really asking."

He huffed a breath of frustration, figuring his sarcasm was getting him nowhere in this situation, "Of course it bothered me! My drink got spiked 'n you expect me not to get bothered by it?"

"It was a joke!" Tenth urged, trying to lighten the mood with a bit of a chuckle. "Besides, didn't look like you were too bothered by it at the time."

Custiel could feel a sudden surge of heat to his face at that comment. He tried to fight it as best he could, but by the amused look on Tenth's face and the laugh that ensued, he could tell he wasn't succeeding very well. He tried to ignore it, "'M sorry that I don't find your bloody joke that funny, Tenth. I'm usually more attuned to jokes that involve _**forced sexual experiences.**_"

That caused whatever was left of Tenth's amusement to fade into something like indignation. He gave a sigh, "Alright, I'm _sorry._ Happy then?"

Well that wasn't genuine at all. Custiel just shook his head, "I don't really think you mean that."

Tenth leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, "You're just never happy with anything, you know that?"

"What d'you expect? After everything?" Custiel argued back, his patience growing thinner by the second.

"What do you want then?"

Custiel opened his mouth to respond, but found himself stopping. Tenth's brown orbs watched him expectantly, leaving him at a bit of a loss for how to explain what he wanted. He wanted a lot of things. He wanted an actual brother. He wanted a father that didn't hate him. He wanted to have a normal childhood. He wanted his mother to stop being dead because of him.

But most of all… "I jus' don't want…" Custiel motioned outward toward Tenth. "_This._"

Tenth's head tilted very slightly, confusion clouding his eyes for a moment, "This? What is _'this'_?"

Custiel's gaze fell to the half empty cup before him, contemplating pressing further on this… But he knew it wouldn't do any good. He shook his head, "Never mind. Forget it."

He could hear Tenth lean forward in his chair, "Look, the main reason I wanted to talk to you is because dad wanted me to invite you to his birthday get together next week."

That caused Custiel's attention to snap back up, his eyebrows tugging together. Several thoughts ran through his mind then. But there were two that stood out. First, of course there was more to this than discussing what happened at the stag party. And second, perhaps more importantly and more surprisingly, his dad was _inviting_ him to something.

"You couldn't just tell me that over the phone?" Custiel asked, not bothering to call out either thing that came to his mind.

"You weren't exactly very open to conversation on the phone," Tenth reminded him, almost in a chiding manner.

There was an estranged happiness that ran through him then as he remembered, "I won't be able to make it; business trip to France all week."

"Custiel, it's his fiftieth," Tenth stressed like he thought it would change anything. "Everyone's going to be there."

"Everyone except me," Custiel said as he leaned back in his chair, fingers still slightly fiddling with the cup of tea. "I can't get out of this trip. Ida needs me there."

Tenth watched him silently for a few moments before sighing and giving a small shrug, "Be sure to call and let him know, then."

"Yeah, sure." That wasn't happening. Custiel brushed that right off, making a very specific and mental note to _not_ call. If his dad didn't give enough of a damn to call and invite Custiel himself, then why would he call to say he wasn't going to make it? He'd send a card or something. Maybe.

Already this little visit with his brother was beginning to wear on him. He just wanted to get on with the rest of his evening. There was still time for a normal night. And Tenth's next words indicated this meeting was nearing a close, much to his relief.

"Right, well, I've got to get going," Tenth said as he looked to his watch. "Need to file some papers for work. Still showing up at my flat tomorrow, right?"

Did he really have a choice? He nodded, "Yeah, I am."

Tenth's lips tugged into a grin as he stood, pushing his chair back in before reaching into the jacket of his suit and pulling out a piece of paper, handing it over to Custiel.

"What's this?" Custiel asked, genuinely curious as he unfolded the single fold.

"My address," Tenth confirmed with that smile still intact. "Show up any time after six. I'll see you then, Custiel. Come prepared to be impressed by my cooking skills."

Custiel pocketed the paper without a second glance, nodding and mumbling just before Tenth walked off, "Yeah…"

Looking back on their entire conversation, that accomplished… Practically nothing. Custiel was still annoyed about what he'd done. He 'apologized', but he may as well have not at all. Probably better if he hadn't tried. In the end, nothing was solved. But it'd always been this way between them. Nothing solved, nothing forgiven, yet somehow he was still attempting to fix the insurmountable amount of cracks in their relationship. It was for Michelle, but even then… Was it really worth it? He was beginning to question that.

After finishing off his tea, he headed back home. Once he entered his flat, he was quick to rid himself of his shoulder bag, suit jacket, and boots, loosening his tie in the process. His mind then suddenly trailed to that pile of dirty clothes he'd tossed into his closet when Michelle came by and he realized he still hadn't taken those out from there, let alone washed them. Knowing he'd possibly need them for the week long trip, he began the task of gathering them up.

Speaking of Michelle, he'd yet to tell her about this trip. A conversation he didn't really want to have because it would just cement the fact that he'd be robbed of possible time to spend with her, but he couldn't put it off forever. And the sooner he told her, the better.

After bringing his clothes to the kitchen and tossing them within the washer, he fished out his mobile from his pocket and dialed Michelle's number. How would he say it? Just right out? He never was great at being direct, but what sense was there in beating around the bush? Wait… Would she even care to know? Now he was just conflicted.

"_Hi! You've reached Michelle's voicemail. I'm not available right now, so just leave me a message, and I'll get back to ya as soon as I can. Thanks!"_

Custiel was a bit unprepared to be greeted by her voicemail, so it resulted in a bit of a stuttering start, "Oh, ah… Michelle. Hi. S'me. Custiel. Guess you're busy doing… Something. Anyway, I jus' wanted to let you know, before I forget, m'gonna be.. Gone all next week. To France. Business trip thing, y'know."

There was a bit of an awkward pause from him before he continued, "Thought you might want to know. Or if not, then, y'know… Just ignore this message. 'N I'll see.. You… Tomorrow. Yeah. Can't wait to see you tomorrow."

That last bit slipped. Not that it wasn't true, but he wasn't quite sure he meant to say it. Either way, he hesitatingly pulled the mobile away from his ear and hung up. That was going on record as one of the worst voicemail messages he'd ever left. He could just wallow in the regret and awkwardness that was that message.

Next order of business was to attempt an organization of the papers on his desk. Perhaps even figure out what ones he needed to bring along and what he should just leave behind. But that task lasted all of about thirty minutes before he found himself spinning around in his swivel chair. He was a grown man and he was spinning around in his chair. _What was he doing?_

Giving up on that endeavor before he made himself completely dizzy, he figured he'd attempt that thing he wanted earlier. The normal night idea. Well, as normal as it could get. Turning his telly onto some random program, he plopped himself down into his chair upside down, his long legs resting on the back of the cushioned chair. It took him nearly several minutes to stop fidgeting, even trying other positions before giving up and returning back to an upside down one.

Again, _what was he doing?_ Custiel felt so restless and bored and that was something that wasn't very usual for him. He could normally handle spending time with something. Keeping busy was one of his best qualities, even when he had to make do with very little means. But right now? That just seemed impossible. Evidenced by the fact that he could find nothing better to do than sit in his chair upside down while not even watching the telly.

That was when he realized he was just being anxious about Michelle calling him back. Whether she'd even bother to call him back at all or not was what kept him in an odd sort of suspense. It'd actually been a little over an hour since he'd left her that message and maybe he was beginning to worry a bit. Maybe a little bit.

And maybe it was a bad idea to call her again so soon… But what could it hurt? Grabbing the mobile from his back pocket, he pulled it out before him, not bothering to sit upright as he dialed her number. After several rings, he expected it to go to voicemail again like last time, but at the sound of the sudden voice, he was happy to know that wouldn't be the case.

"Custiel, hey! I was just about to call ya," Michelle greeted with a smile in her tone.

Custiel automatically smiled as well, "Good thing I called then. Saved you the trouble."

She gave a small giggle at that, "So I got your message."

Custiel could feel a small bout of embarrassment flare up from that. That stupid message. It could've been done so much better. "Ah, you did? Brilliant. Well, any… Comments? Complaints? Concerns?"

A small laugh came from the other end, "How 'bout questions? Like when exactly are ya leavin'?"

"Monday morning 'n I'll be back on Saturday night," Custiel confirmed with a bit of glumness in the pit of his voice. "Ideally, anyway."

"Then I guess we'll have to make the best of tomorrow, yea?"

The corner of Custiel's lips tugged up very slightly, "Yeah, we definitely will…" If that was even possible. God, he hoped it was. "'Spose I'll, ah… See you then."

"Yea, see ya then," she confirmed, sounding as if this were the end of the conversation. "Oh, and Custiel?"

Custiel's eyebrows rose in response, "Yeah?"

A momentary pause came before she said, "Try to get along, alright?"

Custiel's lips pursed together for a second before he agreed, "I will. Don't worry." He told her not to worry when he was worried himself. That was just terribly typical.

"Thank ya," Michelle said sincerely. "See ya there."

"Yeah, see you."

Giving a deep sigh, Custiel hung up and dropped his mobile to the ground. He just had to focus. Focus on one goal and one thought alone. Bear through it and focus on the positive of spending time with Michelle. Keep a level head and remember to not screw it up. No matter how much Tenth might press him to screw it up, he just couldn't. Not this time. Besides, what could be the worst that could happen anyway?


	11. Embarrassments

**/ / I had some serious writer block with this chapter, so sorry for how long it took to update!**

* * *

Custiel barely got any sleep the night before. About five hours or so by his count. Certainly not what he'd consider a good night's rest, especially on the weekend. But who could blame him when it came to his nerves getting the best of him? He was in no way looking forward to this visit to Tenth's flat – other than getting to see Michelle – and his inability to sleep was only showing that. He was almost tempted to take some sleeping pills or something to knock him out. But after lying there in his bed for another couple hours, trying to get back to sleep, he gave up. If his body wasn't going to let him sleep, he might as well do something to keep himself busy.

Most of the day after failing to sleep was spent packing. Deciding what he'd need, what he wouldn't need, what suits to bring, and figuring out just how many bags he'd need. He'd never been on a trip this long before. Certainly a couple days' worth of a trip, but never really an _entire_ week. So better to be prepared than not at all. Even though he would have the entire weekend to figure it out, it was something to do.

Around noon, he even contemplated calling his dad like Tenth had said he should. A certain part of him felt compelled to do that. Perhaps it was the part lodged deeply within him, the scared little boy that was begging and pleading for his father's attention. Begging for anything good from him. But the other part of him, the part dedicated to loathing his father, was much larger and much more dominant. He wasn't that scared little boy looking for approval or guidance anymore. So he didn't let that thought linger for long before brushing it off. He could only handle so much of his family and Tenth was enough for one day.

However, before he realized it, he'd fallen asleep on his couch. He only meant to lie down for a few minutes, taking a break from packing and tidying up his flat in the process. Seemed that lack of sleep had taken more of a toll on him than he originally thought. And oversleeping was definitely _not_ on his agenda for the day.

Rubbing his eyes and giving a small groan of sleepiness, he felt a small panic rising within him as he noticed the sun streaming in through the window was already beginning to set. He was quick to reach within his pocket, digging out his mobile. His eyes widened as he realized he was nearly an hour late.

"_Shit_," Custiel cursed as he sprung up, rushing into the bedroom to quickly change. After slipping on a pair of black jeans, he grabbed a light blue long sleeved shirt that was lying out on his bed and threw that on quick as he could. After tying his boots on, he grabbed his mobile from where he'd laid it on his desk and remembered seeing the notification for a missed call from Michelle and a new voicemail.

He dialed his voicemail as he stepped back into the living room to grab his hooded leather jacket, listening as Michelle's voice came from the other end.

"Hey, Custiel, Tenth and I were wonderin' where ya were and if ya are still comin'? Anyway, call me as soon as ya can."

He could imagine that Michelle was the only one _truly_ wondering where he was. Tenth more than likely couldn't care less with Michelle being there. It just meant he had time alone with her. And Custiel really didn't like that those two seemed to have a lot of time alone together. He wasn't sure _why_ it bothered him, but it just really did.

Custiel let out a heavy and quick sigh as he slid his jacket on, smoothing his hair down as best he could before he was out the door and hailing a cab. Just as the cab pulled up he got himself within it, gave the driver the directions, and immediately dialed Michelle's number. A small yawn escaped his mouth as it rang and before long, he heard Michelle's voice once more.

"Custiel, hey, there ya are," she sounded a bit relieved which definitely made Custiel feel a bit better.

He was quick to explain, "Hey, sorry, I ah… Kind of took an unplanned nap 'n overslept a bit. Everything alright over there?"

There was the hint of a smile in her tone, "Yea, everything's alright. I hope ya don't get upset, but… We just finished eatin'. I wanted to wait, but it was gettin' cold."

"Oh, no, no, s'fine," Custiel reassured her, honestly not minding as much as he probably should've. He just wasn't all that eager to eat any of Tenth's food. "My fault I'm late anyway."

"Alright, well, you're on your way now, yea?"

Custiel nodded, "Yeah, I'm in a cab now. So I'll be there soon."

Her voice seemed to uplift a bit more, "Okay, see ya when ya get here."

Giving a simple goodbye, Custiel brought the mobile away from his ear and hung up. He let out a small sigh, one filled with hints of regret and silent, mental berating. This could've possibly been the last day he'd see Michelle for a week and he'd already gone and wasted time with an accidental nap. Maybe he really should've put an effort forward into finding some sleeping pills earlier. Then he wouldn't be so tired now.

On the bright side, he supposed he wouldn't have to try Tenth's food. No need to force any compliments out. Even if the food he'd made _was_ good, there was a chance he'd rather not admit it. Tenth's ego was big enough without him having to inflate it. In fact, if he were to do that anymore, he was sure that he wouldn't be able to fit in the same room as him. His ego would be taking up all the space.

Although whether that would be true or not, it didn't matter. He'd arrived. After paying the driver, he made his way up a few steps and after a bit more walking, he was finally at Tenth's door. The white wood was very sleek, almost looked to be newly polished. Probably wasn't the case, but it just seemed to exude a look of newness to it that would probably be retained for years to come just because of its quality. _Already_ his brother's flat was nicer.

Brushing these thoughts aside for later, he raised his hand… And had a second of hesitation. He could get through this. Things would be fine. Pressing forward, Custiel rapped on the door a few times. Seemingly moments later the door swung inward, revealing the spiky haired man.

A smile quickly settled itself onto the taller brother's lips as he spoke, "You're late, little brother."

"Yeah, thanks for pointing out the obvious," Custiel shot back, tone lightly irked.

Tenth was wearing a white button up shirt with denim jeans, an outfit Custiel wouldn't have really expected. Perhaps he expected something a bit more impressive for Michelle's sake. But maybe he was going for some sort of casual look. Then again, he always seemed to make up for it with his hair, always gelled and always styled.

Michelle soon popped up beside Tenth, an even bigger smile on her features, "Custiel! Ya made it!"

Her smile was always contagious. It lit up a warmth within Custiel that he could never find it in him to fight, even if Tenth was nearby. He supposed that was a good thing, really. As Tenth stepped by to let him in, he found himself in Michelle's arms, a chuckle escaping past his lips as he returned her hug. She was dressed in a white tank top with a black skirt that ended just above her knees, her hair down in its usual wavy lengths.

"Hello to you too, Michelle," Custiel said as she pulled back and he walked into the flat. "Would've been here sooner, but I-"

"Took a nap. You were too busy sleeping. Yeah, Michelle told me," Tenth cut Custiel off as he closed the door and slid his hands into his pockets. His features seemed to be mildly amused as he continued, "Sleep is just way more important to you than us, I suppose."

Custiel's eyebrows tugged together, a bit annoyed at that, "No, no, that's not true. S'not like I _meant_ to fall asleep." He probably wouldn't have denied that sleep was more important if he were only going to be meeting up with Tenth today. It'd simply be an _'oops, rain check?'_

Tenth's left eyebrow rose teasingly, "You weren't trying to get out of tasting my amazing cooking, were you?"

Custiel considered that, "Hhm, well, maybe that's why I overslept; I just knew whatever you'd make would be bad. I was just saving myself the trouble."

There was a small giggle from Michelle as she jumped into the conversation, "The food was actually really good! Ya don't give Tenth enough credit, Custiel."

Way to stroke his ego. Tenth just gave a smug smirk Custiel's way, "See? Michelle's got good taste. She knows brilliance when she sees it. Or… Tastes it, rather."

"Yeah," Custiel gave in with a bit of a forced chuckle. "We'll jus' see 'bout that."

He really still didn't want to try it. But there was a bit of a competition brewing between them, unspoken and unwritten. Just as it had always been between them. Tenth seemed to take that challenge, wanting to prove him wrong, Custiel was sure.

He began leading him toward the kitchen of his flat, giving him time to look more closely at his place. It was nice. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind about that. Much bigger than Custiel's and even Michelle's flats. More spacious, more clean, more, well… Everything. It even made him feel a bit embarrassed about his own flat. He could only wonder what Michelle thought, comparing them. Of course she probably realized just as he had Tenth's flat was better than his. And maybe he couldn't blame her. It was only truth. It cut into his confidence, but that was nothing new around Tenth.

Upon entering the very white kitchen, there's a small dining table just at the edge of the kitchen tiles, a few tubs for leftover food sitting on top. Michelle is the first to take a seat on one of the four chairs surrounding the table, folding her hands within her lap. Custiel takes the liberty of settling down in the seat next to her before Tenth could and finds a small triumph when he succeeds. But as he looks to Tenth, he doesn't seem as concerned as Custiel would've hoped. So much for that.

"So what'd you make, then?" Custiel asked, looking up to Tenth who stood at the opposite side of the table.

Michelle answered before Tenth could, reaching forward to grab the largest tub and uncover it, "Three cheese lasagna; it's _amazin_'."

Custiel could tell Tenth was trying to downplay his smugness with modesty, waving it off with a few chuckles, "Of course it's amazing to _you,_ Michelle."

"I can't help that I have a weakness for Italian food," she replied mock defensively with a small laugh.

Tenth gave a larger laugh, his toothy grin growing as well, "Exactly why I made it."

Custiel had to resist the urge to sigh loudly, "Well, can I have any of it or not?"

"Yeah, of course you can," Tenth confirmed with his smile still intact as he reached for a plate within a white cabinet, grabbing a spatula from a drawer below said cabinet. Tenth scooped a good portion from the leftover food and placed it on the plate before stepping over to the microwave and putting it in, setting the time for just under a minute.

"Your face doesn't look like it got hit by a truck anymore," Tenth commented pointedly at Custiel as he turned to face him once more.

Custiel scoffed a bit at that, "Oh, and it did before?"

Tenth laughed, "In all fairness– it _did_ look horrible last week."

"It didn't look horrible, it just looked…" Michelle trailed off, her defense left unsupported. Although Custiel appreciated her attempt to defend him, at least.

"Horrible," Tenth finished Michelle's hanging sentence. "But it doesn't really anymore, so no need to get all offended, Custiel."

Custiel's features twisted into a sort of mocking appreciation, eyebrows raised high on his forehead, "Wow, thanks, I think that was _almost_ a compliment."

The microwave suddenly sounded, prompting Tenth to turn back around and retrieve the plate, grabbing a fork from a drawer and placing it before Custiel on the table, "You're welcome, by the way."

"M'not gonna thank you yet," Custiel argued as he grabbed the fork and gave a bit of a challenging smile toward Tenth. "Especially if it's actually horrible 'n Michelle is just being nice 'bout it."

That got a bit of a laugh out of Michelle, "Hey, don't judge it before ya try it, Custiel."

"Still waiting for that thank you," Tenth shot back as he sat himself down across from Michelle and Custiel, an expectant smugness about his gaze. "Trust me; I know it's coming. I know everything."

Custiel could roll his eyes at that one. And he did. Very visibly. It got nothing more than a laugh out of Tenth, "You know I'm right."

He didn't bother to respond to that one. Without hesitating another moment, he pressed his fork into the food, bringing up a piece of it and placing it within his mouth. He was so prepared to shoot it down and dislike it that he hadn't considered the possibility it really might've been good. And it really was. Michelle wasn't exaggerating in a single sense of the word, and he found himself swallowing it after just a few chews.

He hadn't quite realized, but Michelle and Tenth were both watching him expectantly, gauging his reaction and trying to figure out just how he felt about the cuisine. After a moment or two more of silence, Michelle urged, "Well? What do ya think, Custiel?"

"It's completely okay to admit you like it," Tenth encouraged him, the corners of his lips still curved upward.

"Alright, alright," Custiel gave in, giving up the fight for the moment. "It's not… _Bad._"

There was a laugh from Michelle, "See? Ya totally like it!"

The smugness in Tenth's eyes could very well be the equivalent of pumping his fist into the air in a small victory, "Where's my thank you?"

Stabbing the fork back into the lasagna, he looked to Tenth fully and grudgingly said with every ounce of disgruntlement he could, "_Thank you._"

"You're welcome," Tenth threw back, seemingly not at all bothered by his younger brother's discontented appreciation. Custiel couldn't rightly tell whether he chose to ignore it or simply didn't pick up on it. "Made that from scratch too, so you know. Enjoy."

He probably thought he was so impressive. Obviously by the fact that he knew this kind of food would please Michelle, really, properly impress her even, he was going the extra mile just to be amazing and great. Custiel certainly wasn't surprised but that didn't mean he found it any less grating. Still, it was out there, the smugness was already beginning to fade, and he went on to take another bite of the food. He was too hungry to really refuse it and it really _was_ good. He had to give him some credit there.

"So," Michelle began as she placed her elbows on the table, folding her hands together, "Tenth was tellin' me 'bout the Hamlet play you were in durin' high school."

Custiel nearly choked on the food as it went down, not expecting that at all. But he swallowed just fine, trying to play it off, "What?"

Custiel had no doubt Tenth just loved to tell that story, especially to Michelle. It was a terribly embarrassing story that he wished could be lodged away, deeply within the past where it could never be found again. _Ever._ But of course, that would be too simple. If Tenth could make an earning from embarrassing Custiel, he'd no doubt be rich by now.

The story went that during his first year of high school, he'd decided to go for a role in theatre. It was a phase, but when didn't young teens have phases of some sort? After getting the part ghost of Hamlet's father, he was actually quite ecstatic. He'd learned every line, delivered them brilliantly, but when it came to opening night…

"Custiel tripped and fell on the very first night of the play," Tenth went on as if he were continuing from a previous discussion. No doubt the one they'd been having before Custiel showed up. "Knocked his head so hard, he got a concussion! Can you believe that? _A concussion!_"

Custiel could feel blood quickly rushing to his face, Michelle's attempt at stifling her giggles not helping at all. He was quick to drop the fork onto his plate and covered his face with a barely audible groan, "_Not this bloody story._"

"Oh my God!" Michelle finally said, still trying to stop her laughter. Custiel supposed it was nice of her to try to not laugh, but it was embarrassing nonetheless. "That's horrible! Was he okay?"

"They had to get his understudy to take over," he explained like it weren't something completely and totally humiliating. "He really smacked his head hard."

"I'm right here, y'know," Custiel finally cut in, huffing out a quick breath of frustration. He was boring his eyes into the table, attempting to will the heat away from his face. Why'd he have to always blush so easily?

The touch of Michelle's hand was felt on his upper arm on his right, Michelle's giggles dying down more, "I'm sorry, Custiel, I'm sorry."

Tenth just laughed, "You know it was funny."

"No, I really don't find it that funny," Custiel shot a rebuttal Tenth's way, his attention turning up to him slightly.

Tenth gave a few more chuckles, "Alright, no need to get all pouty about it."

There was just really no winning in situations like this with Tenth. Not when it came to him telling embarrassing stories about his teenage years. He didn't even bother to try arguing on it.

"Well, what do you think of my flat? You never did say," Tenth inquired, the subject change, albeit one to inflate his ego no doubt, a welcome one.

Custiel could feel his face luckily losing its heat as he looked up more properly, turning his attention to look around the place. He hated he was about to say this, but, "Yeah, it's nice."

Michelle chimed in then, "I like it a lot. It's really spacious."

That got quite the reaction from Tenth, a grin gracing his lips for the umpteenth time that day as he began to list out how much space it actually had and what it featured. Not that Custiel really cared to know, so he found himself phasing out from the conversation a bit. He continued to eat his plate of lasagna, nodding when appropriate just to make it look as if he really did care. Michelle seemed a bit more interested than him, but he wouldn't blame her if she just didn't care all that much to know all the details about Tenth's flat.

It then came to Custiel that he realized how well he was actually doing. Either Tenth wasn't being as obtrusive as usual or perhaps he was just getting better control over this _'getting along'_ thing. With everything considered, that was a pretty impressive feat. Maybe it was even the fact that Michelle was sitting next to him and not Tenth. Quite the bonus on its own. Whatever it was, he was just glad this was going better than he expected.

As he finished his plate of lasagna, he got up and brought the used plate to the sink, turning on the faucet and washing off the plate as he did so.

"Hey, Custiel," Michelle asked just as there was a lull from Tenth's explanation of everything about his flat. It caused him to turn around after turning the faucet off, his eyebrows rising just slightly. "Can ya tell me why Tenth's nickname is Tenth? He won't tell me."

"Now _that_ is cheating, missy," Tenth immediately reprimanded her, to which Custiel gladly paid no mind.

Michelle grinned almost mischievously, "Well if ya won't tell me, then I'm sure Custiel will."

"Hhmm, let me guess," Custiel hummed thoughtfully as he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows, taking his time in answering. "Did he tell you something like, I dunno, it '_makes him a mysterious man'_?"

Michelle giggled lightly at Custiel's mocking of Tenth's voice, "Yea, he actually said that a time or two."

"I _am_ a mysterious man! Custiel, don't shatter the illusion," he warned his younger brother, eyeing him with determination.

Custiel could only laugh at that as he returned to his seat, "What _illusion_? That you were born at 10:10 in the morning 'n ten jus' happened to be our dad's lucky number so he started calling you Tenth? Where's the mystery in _that?_"

Tenth threw his hands up in defeat, "Well _now_ there's no mystery!"

"Ohhh, okay, now it makes sense," Michelle nodded several times at the new found knowledge, a more genuine smile beginning to tug at her lips. "Mystery solved. Thanks, Custiel."

Custiel smiled over at her, nearly proud of himself, "Could've asked me sooner, y'know. Wouldn't want you to get the idea he got it from some amazing accomplishment."

He found himself smiling even more as he gave a louder laugh, Tenth cutting in and quickly changing the subject, "How would you two fancy a bit of a game?"

Did he just win that time? Custiel believed he did. Maybe a little more evening out after that Hamlet story.

"What kinda game?" Michelle asked, now seeming to grow more serious with curiosity hanging in her voice.

Without another word, Tenth walked over to a large bookshelf where he grabbed a moderately-sized black box from the top, bringing it over to the table and setting it down, "Cards Against Humanity."

Custiel's eyebrows piqued up slightly, "You _actually_ own that game. Oh, blimey…"

Custiel had certainly played the game before. He couldn't say it was particularly his sort of game, but it was good for a laugh. He just hadn't quite expected Tenth to have it himself.

"So?" Tenth urged on, taking his seat once more and giving a challenging sort of grin their way. "Up to play? Or not?"

"I've actually never played," Michelle admitted a bit bashfully, but she was quick to try and cover. "But I know how to. I'd love to play."

Both of them looked to Custiel, waiting for his response. He gave in with a small shrug, figuring he didn't have much of a choice, "Sure, why not."

As if that were his cue, Tenth opened the box, beginning to pull out two stacks of cards; one stack was white and the other was black. As Tenth shuffled the cards, he explained, "Why not play with some special rules?"

Custiel could feel his brow furrowing at that, not liking the sound of that a single bit. When Tenth made the rules, they were never exactly fair, something to be more within his favor than Custiel's. But he would bite.

"'N what special rules would that be?" Custiel asked, equally worried as much as he was eager to find out.

Tenth halved the stack of white cards, placing one stack before Custiel and another before himself as he elaborated, "Michelle, you can be the judge on which of us has got the funniest card every round."

Pausing for a moment, Tenth put the stack of black cards in front of Michelle, "First to win three rounds is the winner and winner gets to share one embarrassing thing about the other. Good then?"

"Yea, I'm totally game," Michelle agreed with a nod and a smile, looking to actually be excited about it. She turned her attention to Custiel who was silently contemplating the pros and cons of these rules, finding more cons in them than there were pros, in all honesty. "Are ya okay with this, Custiel?"

There was still a chance to back out. Still a chance he could save himself the trouble if he lost. But there was also that equal chance that he could win and share something embarrassing about Tenth. Although Tenth might've had many more stories to tell about Custiel, he had his share. A few in particular he thought up right off the bat and he wouldn't hesitate to take the chance to tell Michelle. It was just too good of something to resist, really.

And so he gave a nod, looking from Michelle to Tenth with a challenging smile growing across his lips, "You're on."

Michelle gave her stack of black cards one last good shuffle, even though Tenth had done it himself, and drew on a single card on the top. She brought it up and read it out loud, "'What don't you want to find in your Kung Pao chicken?'"

That got a small giggle out of Michelle as she laid it down and looked to both the boys expectantly. Taking the hint, they each began to draw their cards when Tenth reminded Custiel, "Only five cards at one time."

Like Custiel needed Tenth to remind him of that. Whatever reason he felt the need to say that, it didn't matter. He was too busy reading over the cards within his hand. _'A cooler full of organs, Justin Bieber, bees?, half-assed foreplay, and pulling out' _were his choice of cards. Honestly not the best hand, he knew there were probably better ones, but he wasn't completely hopeless. He just had to rely on the possibility that Tenth had drawn a worse hand than he had.

Custiel chuckled lightly to himself as he grabbed a card from his hand and laid it out, "How 'bout 'Justin Bieber'."

A larger laugh ensued from Michelle at Custiel's card, hand covering her mouth in attempt to keep her laughter down, "I definitely wouldn't want to find _that_ in my Kung Pao chicken."

Custiel's eyebrows rose in a challenging way, a tinge of smugness staining his features, "Got any better than that?"

That actually got a bit of a laugh from Tenth. Or perhaps it was because of his own card that he read out, seemingly unaffected by Custiel's challenge, "'The clitoris.'"

There was definitely an attempt to hold back his laughter as Tenth laid down the card, but Michelle's own laughter was far too contagious. Custiel couldn't stop as it left his throat, his chest bubbling with what were practically giggles.

"Okay, okay, that's just _gross_," Michelle protested with a wave or two of her hand, trying to contain her soft laughs. "Tenth definitely wins that one though."

Damn, and here Custiel thought he actually had that one. He still thought his card was funnier, but Michelle _was_ the judge here. He just hoped that this next one he could actually nail. Especially after seeing that look of victory overcoming Tenth's features.

"Fine, it's only one round, there's plenty of time for me to win," Custiel brushed it off, trying to act like it didn't bother him at all. And really, it _didn't_ bother him all that much. He could still win.

Tenth just chuckled as he pushed the used cards to the side, "_Well_, we'll see."

Michelle wasted no time in drawing out another black card, reading it over, "'_Blank. _That's how I want to die.' Alright, _go._"

As she laid the card down, Custiel and Tenth drew from their respective decks, Custiel's hopes for a great card being diminished as he read the new one. _'Five-Dollar Footlongs'_. Not exactly one that would work so well for this one, but he wasn't worried. He was sure he'd have this one down.

Laying out his card, Tenth read it as he did so, "'Raptor attacks.'"

"Oh my God, that's just horrific!" Michelle protested with barely concealed laughter. "I wouldn't want to die like _that!_"

Tenth found himself laughing just as Custiel did, his shoulders rising and falling as he tried to defend his card, "Well, think about it. When others read your obituary and saw you were killed by raptor attacks, no one would ever forget that kind of thing. If you've got to go some way, might as well be by raptors."

She just shook her head with another laugh, "Still doesn't sound like the way I'd want to die."

Custiel wasn't bothered by this choice or Michelle's reaction. Because he was sure this round would be his. As Michelle looked to Custiel to signal his turn, he put out one of his cards, "'Pulling out.'"

Again, Michelle's laughter was contagious. Even to Tenth, it seemed contagious. She covered her face, trying to contain the laugh, shaking her head as she did so.

"I think we know who the winner is here," Custiel finally managed through his own chortles.

Michelle finally seemed to recover her composure a bit as she uncovered her face and nodded, a giggle or two lingering in her tone, "Custiel, ya win that one."

Custiel couldn't stop the noise of triumph that left his mouth, a look of victory being conveyed all throughout his squared features. Tenth seemed to pay the smugness no mind, giving Custiel an even higher sense of elation that Tenth actually didn't have any comment to give out for once. Now if only he could win just two more times, he would get the opportunity he'd never properly gotten.

Wasting no more time, Michelle drew another black card just as Tenth brushed off the used cards once more, a small giggle lining her lips as she read it silently to herself. Custiel urged her on, "Well? What's it say?"

"'How did I lose my virginity?'" she read aloud before placing it down on the table, the response from each brother being to draw from their respective decks. It seemed with their evened score, they were equally determined to win, the game turning from one of laughter and fun to one of pure competition. And not the light hearted kind.

Custiel's grin grew at his new card, _'tentacle porn'_, deeming it absolutely perfect for this one. So immediately he laid it down, "'Tentacle porn.'"

To which it got an instant reaction from Michelle, her features a mixture of amusement and disgust, her laughter unstoppable, "Oh my God, Custiel! _No!_"

Custiel certainly couldn't help but chuckle along, her reaction definitely a good sign. He'd love to see Tenth beat _that_ one.

"'Mr. Clean, right behind you.'"

Judging by the laugh that came from Michelle right then, Custiel could feel that maybe he didn't quite have this one after all.

"This game – it's so _bad!_" Michelle finally managed, beginning to come down from her laughing fit.

Tenth chuckled lightly, a certain assured air about his voice, "So, is that a sign I won that round?"

Custiel watched Michelle carefully as she contemplated this, seeming to go back and forth a bit before finally coming to a conclusion, "Okay, yea, ya won that one, Tenth."

A rising sort of gnawing worry began to tug within Custiel. Tenth only needed _one_ more win and that would be it. The possibilities of just what he'd choose to embarrass him over were endless and it was probable that he may know some things Custiel never would've known he was aware of. He was suddenly beginning to regret agreeing to this game.

But he couldn't let it stop him. He could still win this. It wasn't impossible. But God, was it looking pretty improbable.

"One more and I win," Tenth mentioned as he swiped away the used cards, reminding Custiel to what he already painfully knew. "Better step up your game, Custiel, or you're going to lose."

"Yeah, I know the rules," Custiel bit out, looking to Michelle as she drew another black card.

Michelle quickly read it silently to herself, a small smile tugging at her lips before she read it out to the both of them, "'A romantic, candlelit dinner would be incomplete without _blank._'"

Custiel began to reach for a new card when Tenth immediately put out his, not even bothering to draw this round. And as Tenth read out, "'Viagra,'" Custiel understood why he didn't bother taking a card. And he could just tell, he _knew,_ Tenth did that one on purpose. Purposefully stabbing him with that bloody reminder.

Custiel could feel himself a bit frozen up, the word honestly triggering the beginnings of a blush. Although he wasn't sure whether it was a blush of embarrassment… Or one of anger. Tenth's large smile certainly didn't help the situation, only rubbed it in. And he was sure Tenth knew exactly what he was doing. He hadn't even noticed that had gotten quite the reaction from Michelle. But this wasn't much about the stupid game anymore.

After a few more moments of Custiel just simply glaring at Tenth, Michelle moved toward him slightly, "Custiel? It's your turn."

Without looking at his cards, he selected a random one and set it out. He didn't even bother reading it before it was laid out.

"'Five-Dollar Footlongs'?" Tenth read as he leaned over to see the card more properly, his face contorting into something like amused confusion. "Well, that's pretty rubbish."

Michelle gives a small laugh before admitting, "Well, looks like Tenth wins."

Of course he did. He barely even paid attention as Tenth gave a triumphant laugh, his voice pounding more and more annoyance into Custiel with each syllable, "As I expected."

It seemed like Tenth was waiting for Custiel to say something to that, but instead he just got silence. Silence combined with a glare that wasn't in the least bit concealed.

"Got anything to say, Custiel? Or are you going to be a sore loser?" Tenth asked with the raise of his left eyebrow, the stupid little smile on his lips driving Custiel even madder. It was enough that he won using _that_ card, but rubbing it in like this…

Custiel placed his cards back into his stack, averting his eyes away from Tenth and forcing out, "_Congrats._"

Maybe if Tenth hadn't played that particular card, this loss wouldn't have been as bad. In many ways, perhaps he was overreacting and he shouldn't have let it get to him so much. But maybe it was just the fact that Tenth had intentionally played that card to get under his skin is what bothered him so much.

"Custiel?" Michelle asked, her voice much more serious and quiet. "Are ya okay?"

"Ohh, don't worry about him, he's fine," Tenth chimed in, prompting Custiel's eyes to shift from Michelle back to his brother. "In fact, I'm sure he's more than fine, especially after last weekend."

Eyes widening, Custiel snapped his full attention to Tenth, his heart nearly stopping in his chest and rising to block his throat. He wouldn't… Custiel opened his mouth to say something, anything, but Michelle beat him to it.

"What're ya talkin' 'bout?" her tone was genuine, the question honest and inquiring.

Tenth smiled a bit wider, obviously pleased by her curiosity, "Hold on, I'll show you."

Custiel could feel his eyebrows furrowing together into a line of confusion, his voice unsteady even to his own ears, "_What are you talking 'bout._"

After Tenth retrieved his mobile from his pocket, he began searching through it, that damned smile never leaving his lips, "I'm sure you know what I'm talking about, Custiel."

There was an internal rising panic, wanting to deny what he thought it might've been, not wanting to believe what he could have been referring to. But there were parts of confusion in it, the need for his mobile being out not adding up to it all. What the hell was he going to show her?

Tenth's attention turned from his mobile to Michelle, his voice holding an estranged sort of innocence to it, "I wasn't going to say anything about this, but I mean, I won the game. One embarrassing thing, right? That was the deal?"

For just one moment, just one _tiny_ moment, Custiel wished everything would freeze, that everything would stop. Because the longer this dragged out, the more he realized it was what he feared it would be. The stag. The stripper. The handjob.

Unfortunately, nothing froze. Everything continued normally. And before he could say a single thing, Tenth's mobile was in Michelle's hands, her features indiscernible as her eyes flickered over the screen. What hammered the last nail into the coffin were Tenth's words, "Custiel just couldn't help himself after he saw that stripper."

Eyes widening, he felt an immediate blush rushing to his face. He was too stunned to even cover it this time. Not only had Tenth revealed something that he never wanted Michelle to know, he took pictures. Bloody pictures! He had the gall to not just drug his drink and get the stripper on him, but to take a picture of the shameful incident.

There was no finding the right words right then. Michelle just continued to stare at the screen, the flat suddenly quiet and the air thick with a mixed tension. Custiel wanted to take it as a good sign that Michelle hadn't started laughing… But he didn't realize how bad of a sign it actually was.

"I tried to tell him not to let her do it," Tenth finally broke the silence, the lie actually stinging and adding salt to the wound. "But he was so eager."

"_Shut the hell up!_" Custiel found words at last, his voice much louder in comparison. It nearly echoed within the flat. He was quick to turn his attention to Michelle, stumbling for something, anything, "Michelle, it-it's not… It's not what it looks like."

Michelle's features were still hard to read. But there was an odd sort of hurt within her eyes, the way her eyebrows pulled together in something that resembled frustration only hurting more, "Then _what_ is it? Because it sure looks to me like you just let her do whatever she wanted to you. _I thought you had better dignity than this, Custiel."_

That dug deep. Deeper than he would've thought it ever could. He tried to explain, "It wasn't my fault-"

"It's plenty your fault for lettin' her have her hands down your pants," she shot back, placing the mobile down onto the table with a heavy sigh.

Custiel pointed at Tenth, "He slipped bloody Viagra into my drink and called the stripper over to me, Michelle!"

Michelle almost looked offended at that, a scoff escaping past her lips just as quickly as her defensive words, "Don't blame Tenth for somethin' ya obviously did!"

"I would _never_ let that happen!" Custiel said nearly desperately, the fact she was siding with Tenth on this all the more painful.

Michelle suddenly picked the mobile back up, shoving it toward Custiel. That was when he got a good look at the incriminating picture, shame and embarrassment alike washing over him. It looked even worse from the outside view. The only thing he could be grateful for was his member was still covered by his jeans. But the fact that this stripper had her hand within his pants was still just as bad and the expression on his face… She was never supposed to find out about this.

"Well that's obviously not true, so stop lyin' and stop tryin' to blame your brother!" Michelle's words were like individual stabs but nothing pushed him over the edge quite like what Tenth decided to say right then and there.

"Yeah, Custiel, it's not my fault you were so excited."

That was it. Custiel stood from his chair in one swift motion and in the very next, he was standing over Tenth where he sat, his hands clenching tightly at Tenth's shirt, "_Tell her the __**truth!**__"_

Although Custiel was in his face, Tenth didn't seem all that phased by it. He even gave a small laugh, "What? That you let that stripper jerk you off?"

"No!" Custiel denied with a quick jerk on the grip of Tenth's shirt. "The fact that you drugged my drink, you asshole! That you told the stripper to jerk me off!"

Custiel had been so caught up in his anger, letting his temper get the best of him (something he was sure he was doing better at recently, but in this case, who could really blame him?), he hadn't noticed that Michelle had gotten up from her seat as well. In fact, he only noticed once he felt her hands roughly pushing him away from Tenth.

"Custiel, stop!" Michelle shouted, her force enough to snap him out of it momentarily, leaving him to stumble back slightly.

Swallowing roughly, Custiel looked to Michelle with an expression that begged for her to believe him, "D'you really think I'm lying? _Really?_"

"I really don't think Tenth would spike your drink with Viagra," Michelle shot back, her voice holding a firmness to it.

Custiel shook his head, his brow forming a line of frustration, "You don't even _know_ Tenth – you have no idea what he's like!"

"I know him well enough to know he wouldn't do somethin' like that!"

There was a moment of pause, that of which Custiel couldn't believe this. Everything was just being turned against him. Had this really been just what Tenth wanted? How long had he been setting this up?

Michelle's voice came out before Custiel's could again, quiet yet solid in its conviction, "Ya should leave. I don't even want to look at ya right now. I thought ya were better than that and I'm ashamed of ya."

If it were possible to hear the sound of a shattering heart, splintering into shards upon shards, Custiel was sure it would've been loud enough to reach every corner of this flat and then some. His voice almost sounded broken as he pleaded, "Michelle, please, can we jus' talk-"

"No," Michelle denied him quietly, giving a shake of her head. "Just leave."

His throat felt dry and strangled. Even if he wanted to push this further, trying to get something more out of this, trying to solve it somehow, he knew it wouldn't be any good. Michelle didn't want to see him. And as much as it pained him, he knew going against that would only make things worse. He didn't dare bother to look at his brother again, afraid that there might be some sort of smug little smile lining his lips that would send him over the edge again. His temper was always a fragile thing when Tenth was ever involved. And he hated it nearly as much as he hated Tenth.

Giving Michelle one last look, he turned and made his way out of Tenth's flat. No looking back, no hesitations. Just the shutting of the door behind him and the hailing of a cab. Nothing but the numbness of a silent drive, a silent journey to his flat. So many times he'd opened the door to his flat, but there had never been any other time he'd felt this… Hopeless. Lost. Broken.

Entering into his empty flat, he closed the door, softly and quietly. He didn't bother turning on any lights, leaving the flat in an almost completely dark state. He found his back leaning against the door of his flat and, without much effort, allowed his body to slide down it until he felt himself meet the ground.

His thoughts were merely bits and pieces of a jumbled puzzle, not really all there at the moment. And he wasn't sure when they would all be put together to form any coherent thoughts over what just happened. In fact, he wouldn't be surprised if this was just some really bad nightmare. A terrible dream that his mind was plaguing himself with. But he knew it wasn't a dream. He knew he wouldn't wake up from this. It was reality and it was fucked up. Completely and entirely.

Custiel sat there for several minutes, face buried into his hands, caught somewhere between tears and numbness. What could he do? What _should_ he do?

Fighting off the tears as best he could, he reached into his pocket, taking out his mobile and quickly dialing Michelle's number. Maybe it wasn't the best course of action to take so soon, but he needed to do _something._ Yet as the ringing continued, he knew she wasn't going to answer. And before long, the only thing of her greeting him was her voicemail. To which the only words he left after that tone was, "I'm sorry, Michelle… I'm so sorry."


	12. Growing Up

**/ / Wow, look at that, more writer's block! Sorry for being lame, you're all awesome for your support~**

* * *

A week can be a terribly long time for feelings of regret and contrition to fester in the pit of someone's heart. Even more so if adding embarrassment to the mix. It creates a cluster of terrible emotions that Custiel could feel eating away at him for every day that passed. Thursday felt so very far away, almost like years had passed when, in reality, it was just barely a week ago. The first days after the embarrassing reveal were, of course, the hardest. That weekend following the incident, Custiel tried his best to spend every moment he could packing and getting ready for the week long business trip. But there was really only so much that could be packed before he was threatening to just take every bit of belonging possible with him. Needless to say, he had to put some stuff back. He wasn't complaining, though. Just served as more of a distraction.

In between packing and lamenting, he tried to figure a way to get out of having to attend this trip. Sickness, family emergency, dead pet; he thought of all the angles. But Ida would've been able to see right through it. She _knew_ a liar when she saw one and he wasn't the best liar to begin with. Besides, he was sure she'd need him there. So with no way out, he gave up by the time Sunday hit.

He tended to lean toward the philosophy that maybe getting away would be good. A change of pace and scenery certainly never hurt. But he had to give it one more try before giving in entirely. That Sunday night, he tried to call Michelle. Yet he would have no such luck in gaining an answer. He knew things were bad. Although bad enough to not receive an answer even after several days had passed? She certainly seemed to be going for an award in having the coldest shoulder. There was no use in leaving another message.

Custiel never was much a fan of flying. Luckily there wasn't all that much flying involved. It was relatively painless compared to the rest of the week. Meetings upon meetings, shaking hands with strangers, and even picking up a few bits of French here and there. He even learned how to introduce himself in French. For whatever it was worth, he thought it was cool. And his favorite word? _Allons-y._

Nothing but work seemed to be distracting him the whole time and even in certain moments, he found he forgot about what had happened back in London. The dealing with business seemed to really snap him out of it all and place him into a different mindset. It was almost similar to the life he'd lead before Tenth and Michelle had come back into the picture. In some ways, he found he missed this. But in others, he just wanted something other than work in his life. Just simply minus the problems that came along with it. Can't have your cake and eat it too, unfortunately.

Being ahead of schedule seemed to be a thing that was happening for Custiel in his job lately. Even now, when plans changed and they were getting on a plane back to London on Friday rather than Sunday, that trend seemed to continue. Not that he particularly complained, of course. If he had to find any highlight in this week, it was certainly this. Although, returning only meant coming back to the same issues that were still largely unsolved. Was it too much to wish that they'd somehow solved themselves while he was away?

"Good work this week, Lungbarrow," Ida tossed the compliment Custiel's way just as a voice overhead announced the boarding of an indistinguishable flight number.

"Thanks, Ida, ah… You too," Custiel returned, nodding his head and giving her a small smile as she placed the strap of her bag along her shoulder.

Reaching forward, Ida gave a light pat or two to his cheek, an oddly pleased smile about her features as she did so, "Couldn't ask for a better assistant."

Custiel opened his mouth to respond, but didn't get the chance as Ida's attention was cast away from Custiel to the mobile within her hand, her eyes darting across the screen quickly, "And that would be Bill, here to pick me up. I expect you at the office Monday morning." Her eyebrows rose high on her forehead, finger jabbingly pointing as if she were condemning him, "No tardiness. You know I _hate_ that."

A quick nod ensued from Custiel, his lips tightly pursed just a moment before he spoke, "Right, 'course. Wouldn't dream of being late."

"Of course you wouldn't," Ida gave another quick upturn of a smile, just like everything else about her, the smile was stiff and not at all very natural. Maybe it was even forced. But Custiel didn't have much time to ponder that before she was walking off, a large bag on wheels being towed shortly behind her.

Finally he felt he could breathe a sigh of relief as he loosened his tie just slightly. Always being around Ida felt like he always had to be on guard, always had to await some kind of order to be thrown onto him. The only breaks he had received during that trip was when he turned in back to his hotel room every night. Now if only this weekend would start out better than the last had, and he'd be in good shape.

After readjusting his shoulder bag, he grabbed the straps to the larger bag just next to the his feet and hauled it up before beginning to make his way out of the busy place. Just as he weaved past a large crowd, he could feel his mobile vibrating within his pocket. He stepped over to the side, out of the way of the flow of bodies, and reached for his mobile.

For the few seconds before he pulled out his mobile, he had a thought that maybe it was Michelle, finally calling him back. And for those few seconds, there was hope. That perhaps this weekend would start out right. But he couldn't be more wrong. His features scrunched up as his eyes closed tightly, a quick huff of air escaping past his lips. Slowly, with unsureness in his movements, he answered.

"Hi… Dad," Custiel greeted carefully, not sure what to even expect. The last he'd even said a word to his dad was the day he decided to move out, a little over four years ago.

"Hello, Custiel," he addressed, his voice still sounding no different than Custiel had remembered; deep, gruff, and almost hoarse. Perhaps it was permanently hoarse due to his job as being a head coach of a football team practically his whole life. "So I didn't see you on my birthday. Got any sort o' reason for that?"

There was a moment of internal panic. Of _course_, his birthday. The party Tenth told him about. He'd honestly forgotten the moment he decided not to call him about it. He didn't actually think his dad would follow up on it.

Rubbing a hand over his face, he tried to explain, "Right, yeah, sorry 'bout that, I ah… I was in France. Business trip. Jus' got back today, haven't even left the airport yet. I thought Tenth would've told you..?"

"You're at the airport, then? Got a ride?"

Custiel's eyebrows furrowed deeply into a line of confusion as he scratched the back of his head, "Well, I was jus' going to catch a cab…"

His father's voice had an odd upturn to it then, "Got an offer for you. Why don't I swing by, pick you up. I'm out and near the airport as it is."

"Uhhhh," was all that came from Custiel's mouth at this, honestly quite taken aback at what seemed like something of a kind offer. When was his father _ever_ kind to him? "No, no, s'fine, I'll catch a cab-"

"Come on, Custiel," he urged with a bit of tension. "Don't refuse my offer. I'd like to have a chat with you anyway."

Well, what choice did he have? Again, he felt like that scared little boy, afraid to disappoint his father in any way at all. Suppose he wasn't so grown out of it after all.

Nervously brushing his fringe to the side, Custiel caved, "Alright, ahh… Thanks. I'll be waiting at gate 55-A."

"Alright, bye," his father confirmed before hanging up much more quickly than Custiel could even pull his mobile away from his ear.

Taking a deep breath, he reached down and grabbed his bag once more, pocketing his mobile as he did so. His mind was a jumbled mess of confusion, not quite connecting dots as much as he wished he could. They've never had anything to talk about before. So why _now,_ after all these years? It just wasn't something he could piece together for a reasonable explanation. Then again, his father had always been a man of his own concealed intentions. Sure, he did things for a reason, but they were always his own and rarely shown. He supposed it would just be a mystery that would never be solved.

As Custiel stepped past the automatic doors, he took a deep breath of the London air, feeling relieved to at least be back home. He could probably even admit to himself that he'd become a little homesick in the time he'd been away and stepping out to the clouded, grey skies above just reminded him of that.

Although he'd loosened his tie already, he figured he'd want to fix that, hoping to make somewhat of a good impression on his father. Luckily he was still in one of his better suits, so that had to count in some places. Setting his large bag down once more, his hands gripped at his tie in the right places, tugging it upward and into a more proper place. After all these years, he was still trying to impress him. Old habits really did die hard.

Just as he was tempted to simply catch a cab and leave before his father could show up, a black BMW M5 pulled up next to the curb before Custiel, window rolling down to reveal the face he hadn't seen in years. His father.

"Going to stand there all day and gawk, or do you plan on gettin' in," Zachary, Custiel's father, demanded, snapping Custiel out of his strange admiration for the car.

Custiel swallowed roughly before reaching down and picking up his large bag, "Right, sorry. Ah…" He paused suddenly, unsure what to do with his bag. Should he put it in the backseat? Or should he ask him to pop the trunk?

Seeming to pick up on his unsureness, Zachary reached forward and pressed a button, the trunk sliding up smoothly, "Put it in the back already."

Custiel was quick to move to the back of the car and place the large bag in the trunk, hesitating just a moment more before shutting it. He wasted no time in moving to the passenger door and opening it, sliding in and closing the door as he did so. The moment Custiel clicked his seatbelt into place, Zachary had already pulled away from the curb and was driving away from the airport.

Chancing side glances at his father felt like all he could do as the car ride was spent in silence for the first few moments. Only the small murmur of what sounded like a sports newscast was playing softly above the gentle hum of the car. The car itself looked to be brand new; his father certainly never had it last they'd spoken.

Although the car was definitely new, his father's appearance wasn't in the slightest. He looked largely the same; just as threatening as ever too. His head held closely shaved dark brown hair, his stubble-ridden features still looking quite sharp despite the few wrinkles that adorned the corners of his hazel eyes. His strong muscle definition easily shone through the black sweater he wore, making him look lean and fit, especially for having just turned fifty. Really the only things that showed Custiel was his son at all were the matching hair and eye colors.

Custiel could feel his fingers beginning to nervously fiddle with the strap to his shoulder bag, taking a leap of faith in turning his attention more fully to his father and attempting to break the painful silence, "So, ah, dad… How've you been?"

"Dealing with a bunch o' sweaty airheads every damned day that barely know how to tell their right testicle from their left," Zachary answered without hesitation, his voice reverberating strongly within the small confinement. He didn't even bother to take his eyes off the road, "How do you _think_, Custiel."

Custiel's attention was quick to turn ahead once more as he tried to recover, "Right, sorry.."

Fingers began to drum lightly on his thighs, Custiel clearing his throat before trying again after another few moments of silence, "Ah… Thanks.. Thanks for the ride, by the way. Appreciate it."

A snort of laughter caused Custiel to turn his attention to Zachary, a bit confused why he was laughing at all until he spoke, "Jesus, Custiel, you haven't changed a damn bit. I'm not so sure that's a good thing either."

_I could say the same 'bout you…_ Custiel thought to himself, wanting to say it so very much, but a deeply rooted fear kept him from ever vocalizing such a thing.

Custiel took a deep breath, "I _have_ changed, though. I'm a full-fledged executive assistant to Ida now. Have been for two years."

"Fishin' for some kind o' Cub Scout award, boy? It's just a bloody secretary job," Zachary shot back as he glanced over to his son, seeming to not be impressed at all by this information. Custiel couldn't say he didn't try, at least. "Didn't go back to school, then?"

Shaking his head, Custiel attempted to explain himself, "Well, no, I jus'… Thought with this job, I wouldn't really have to."

That got a sigh and a shake of his father's head, "No, 'course not. Can't expect things from you like I can your brother."

Custiel's hands curled inward, that jab something like the reopening of a very old wound. And really, it was. Just like all the other hundreds, possibly even thousands upon thousands of times he'd always say something similar, comparing him to Tenth again and again, it stung with a deep pang of hurt. It'd grown easier over the years, though. He'd become largely desensitized to it by the time he got to high school. But after not receiving it for years, it was like he'd come right back to the start. He was still just a _child_ in his father's eyes.

After Zachary made a turn, Custiel realized that they weren't headed back to his flat. In fact, his father took a turn too soon and was headed away from his flat. Custiel looked about, trying to figure where they were headed, but gave up and asked, "Hold on, where're we going?"

"I was on my way to get some late lunch, so I figured I'd just take you with me," he responded, eyes still trained on the road.

Custiel just bit at his lip with slight annoyance, really not wanting to have to spend more time with his father than necessary. He didn't even want to get a ride from him. But of course, he always folded before his father. And even now, he would fold again, not arguing against this. Only problem was he didn't have much money on him at the time, and he wouldn't dare ask his dad to pay for him. Call it wanting to retain his dignity and pride in some way.

Seemingly within moments, Zachary pulled up to Kerbisher and Malt, a place that Custiel had actually been to a few times himself. He liked the place well enough, but hated that he'd always have this memory of visiting it with his father now. Still, nothing could be done about it.

His father was the first to order his food, a simple order of fish and chips. Custiel opted for a cup of English Breakfast tea that he found himself continually fiddling with as they sat in silence at their table. Custiel didn't even really bother to look up to his father, not quite wanting to say anything. There was a thought in the back of his mind that he could just get up and leave. He could brave the walk, it wouldn't be all that far. Yet here he continued to sit, almost petrified to do so.

After taking another bite of a chip, Zachary finally broke the silence, "Seein' anyone, are you? Or are you still relyin' on your hand to get the job done every night?"

Custiel had nearly forgotten how abrasive and vulgar his father could be. It was certainly a bit of changed from everything. Nonetheless, his thoughts trailed to his most recent ex, Clara Oswald. She'd ended up leaving him after she started seeing some bloke called Danny Pink, an unfortunate time, to say the least. But it'd opened his eyes to see that he didn't truly love her like he'd been so sure he had. He was roughly 21 when this happened, so of course his dad wouldn't know a thing about Clara. Better to keep it that way. And Michelle… There was nothing there. And so ended his checklist of women in his life. Besides Ida, but that absolutely didn't count.

"Goin' deaf, boy? I asked you a question," Zachary urged, snapping Custiel out of his reverie.

Custiel was quick to try and recover as he looked to him, "No, I ah… No I'm not. Not seeing anyone, I mean."

"Damn shame," his father said with an unsurprised tone, popping another chip into his mouth. "When I was your age, already had your brother. You gotta pick up the pace."

Custiel's eyes darted back down to his cup, "M'just not… Ready."

That certainly got a laugh out of Zachary, "Of course you are! You're just a bit of a pussy, that's all."

There was really no point in responding to that. So instead, he kept his attention down, brought the cup to his lips, took a sip, and gave a single nod just to show that he was still listening. His dad always hated it when he thought he wasn't listening to him. Best to avoid that kind of thing.

Even without a response from Custiel, Zachary continued, "Still livin' in that flat I helped move you into?"

"Yeah, yeah I am," Custiel answered, eyes looking up to his father just as he took another bite of his meal.

Zachary almost scoffed at that, shaking his head as he did so, "Jesus, boy, are you ever goin' to grow up?"

"I'm saving up to move out eventually," Custiel offered as he tried to shrug off his father's belittling as best he could.

"Good," Zachary jabbed quickly. "Bit embarrassing still bein' in the first place you moved into at your age."

Of course, only Custiel's father would somehow find that embarrassing. He's honestly not sure what would be embarrassing about it anyhow. He could comfortably afford the flat and it's not like he wanted anything fancy like Tenth had. If anything, he'd grown attached to the place. But he'd never say any of that to his father. Only more harsh words would be thrown his way if he did.

"Y'know, that job is gonna get you absolutely nowhere," Zachary went on like he just loved tearing Custiel down. Who was he kidding; of course he loved tearing him down. "Just pissin' in the wind, all it is. You're goin' to get stuck there for the rest of your life if you don't take some damned responsibility and do somethin' with your life."

Did his father just offer to give him a ride so he could treat him like a child again? Was he getting nostalgic for all the verbal and emotional abuse he put Custiel through on a daily basis when he was growing up?

"Ever thought of goin' into some kind o' school like Tenth and gettin' a proper career?" There came a pause, Custiel not even bothering to look up from where his eyes bore into his tea, but figured he was taking a few more bites of his food. "Then again, can't blame you all that much. You always were one to avoid responsibility."

Custiel could do nothing but take every little bit he could throw at him. It felt like an endless assault. He was the scared little boy shaking on the edge of his bed as his father yelled at him, head ducked, and as exposed and helpless as a deer in headlights. His grip around his cup grew tighter with each word that left Zachary's mouth, the skin of his palms even beginning to burn from the hot liquid within.

"Speaking of responsibility," Zachary began again, pausing a moment to take a sip of his own tea. "You could've called to tell me you weren't goin' to show up for my birthday. For Christ's sake boy, I just turned 50! The least you could've done was give me a bloody call."

Custiel finally spoke up in what felt like hours, his attention finally turning to his father as he did so, "I thought Tenth would've told you where I was."

Zachary shook his head, disappointment clear in his features, "Just got to rely on your brother to do everythin' for you? Can't be man enough to do it for yourself? I invited you and you didn't even call."

_You couldn't be man enough to do it yourself either_, Custiel bitterly threw back in his mind, the words on the tip of his tongue, so ready to fly out.

"I didn't even have to bloody invite you," Zachary spat, seeming to be genuinely angry about this. Then again, everything he said sounded genuinely angry.

"_Sorry, I lost track of time_," came the gritty response through clenched teeth, Custiel finally having to remove his hands from his cup. They were throbbing from the intense heat, his palms and fingers radiating with heat. How much more of this could he take? He wasn't even properly sure.

Just a few more bites and Custiel's father finished off his food, pushing the empty plate away from him. Custiel returned his attention to the liquid within his cup, trying to keep himself from going off. He was trying so very hard, but he truly didn't know if he had it in him.

"Your mother would be disappointed," Zachary preached, pointing a finger Custiel's direction. "Turnin' over in her grave, bet she's shakin' her head right now."

"_Shut up_," Custiel finally caved, feeling all the anger crawling to a higher and higher level, the nearly whispered words slipping perhaps not completely on purpose. But God, did he _absolutely_ mean them.

The moment of silence that followed were perhaps the thickest. A knife couldn't even cut the tension, it was impossibly dense. Custiel could feel himself beginning to become rigid, his mind wanting to fall back and away from his father's silence. He knew that silence. It was the calm before the storm, what signaled the burning fuse before his anger was lit.

"What did you say?" his father demanded, leaving no room for excuses.

_No_. He couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't keep letting his father belittle him, couldn't allow this to continue. He wasn't that little boy anymore. He was a grown adult and dammit, he was going to finally act like one. Starting with telling his father two words he'd wanted to say his whole life.

Confidence ran through every inch of his voice as he looked up fully, eyes locking onto his father's with a renewed determination, "_**Shut up.**_"

Immediately Zachary's features screwed up into something like anger and frustration, as Custiel expected. That seemed to be a trait he shared with his father, much as he didn't want to admit it. They both had short tempers. Although he knew his father's temper was much longer lived.

There was an odd sensation flowing through Custiel at that moment. He'd never told his father to shut up, never even came close. He didn't regret it a single bit.

"Say that _one_ _more_ _**fuckin'**_ time and you can _**forget**_ havin' a ride home!" Zachary nearly shouted, his nostrils flaring with the anger that was deeply rooted in his tone.

"Fine," Custiel immediately shot back, no hesitations, nothing clouding his words but pure confidence. "I won't say that again. I'll say what I've been wanting to say since the day I was bloody born as your son." There came a pause as he leaned forward, a deep resentment within his eyes as he stared down his father, "_I hate you._"

And he didn't just stop there, his voice almost turning into a low growl, "I've _**always**_ _hated_ you 'n you've never done _**anything**_ for me but beat me down!"

Zachary's voice was quick to rise, "That day you _killed_ your mother, _**my wife**_, I never wanted to look at you again but I still fuckin' raised you!"

"That wasn't raising me, _that was __**torture**_," Custiel seethed, everything seeming to come out at once. All the denigrating of his childhood seemed to resurface, all the hatred he felt for this man toppling over him. "_I'm an adult now 'n I don't need you belittling me anymore._"

A laugh, entirely mirthless, left Zachary's mouth, "Don't fuckin' kid yourself, you're not an adult. Your brother-"

"Yeah, my brother this, my brother that. Well y'know what? _**Keep him.**_"

Custiel hadn't realized, but the other customers within the establishment were actually beginning to stare, their argument actually having gotten quite loud. Not able to sit here any longer, Custiel got up and spat bitterly before his father could speak again, "Congratulations; your favorite son is now your _**only**_ son."

Not even bothering to give his father the chance to respond, he quickly turned on his heel and headed out of the place and onto the London streets once more. His flat wasn't that far. He could just walk, because there was no chance he would get in a car with that man again.

His mind had turned into a fuming, jumbled mess, thoughts racing on a high of something akin to victory. Almost as though adrenaline was coursing throughout him and his brisk pace up to his flat wasn't even enough to keep up with his mind.

As soon as he closed the door to his flat, everything came crashing down on him. The very realization of what he'd done. He'd never done that in his life. Not even coming close to such an outburst at his father. After everything, all the years of the torment, he'd finally told his father he hated him. He was sure if he'd still constantly been exposed to what his father had done and hadn't moved out, this never would've happened. He would've remained stuck, never getting out of that abuse.

It felt… Oddly satisfying. Like he could actually breathe. For a time in the beginning when his father picked him up from the airport, he was beginning to believe things were going to fall right back into their original places. That nothing would've changed between them. But he'd grown as his own person in the time he was away from his father, and whatever hold he had on him before couldn't happen anymore. It wouldn't.

As he removed his shoulder bag and placed it on his bed, there came a terrifying thought. His other bag. It was still in the trunk of his father's car. A groan from this realization ensued, leaving him to do nothing but regret forgetting about it. How the hell could he have forgotten about _that?_

He couldn't call his dad. Not this soon after that outburst. In fact, he was starting to think he may never get his things back. It'd be a terrible move to call him back and ask for his stuff at all. What a mess. Could he afford to lose what was in that bag? A week's worth of clothing, several suits, and a lot of toiletries…

"_Stupid, stupid, stupid_," he cursed again and again at himself, striking his forehead as he did so. He supposed he was just lucky that he'd toned down the amount that he'd originally packed, else he would've really been in trouble.

Either way, he couldn't bring up the courage to call his father after that. At least not this soon. His thoughts were jarred as the ringing of his mobile caught his attention, a little hesitance plaguing him as he reached for it within his pocket.

As he loosened his tie, he looked to the caller ID, his heart nearly jumping at the name. He'd been so caught up in what'd just happened that he hadn't considered it could be Michelle calling him. He just had to breathe and he'd be okay. Without letting it ring even once more, he answered.

"Hello? Michelle?" Was that sounding too eager and nervous? Probably. But he couldn't take it back now that it left his mouth.

There was a slight hesitation on the other end before Michelle tentatively spoke up, "Hey, Custiel…"

He wasn't sure whether the hesitation and her tone were good or not. She didn't sound mad, at least. He shoved his free hand into his pocket, trying to get it to stop fidgeting, "Hi…"

Well this was a bit awkward. Custiel wants to bring up what happened so very badly, to talk it out with her, but he doesn't know where the boundaries are in this conversation. Not yet.

"Are ya still in France?" Michelle asked with a genuine curiosity in her voice.

Custiel began to slowly pace within his bedroom, "No, no, I ah.. Just got back. 'Bout an hour ago."

"Oh, well…" she trailed off for a moment, sounding a bit surprised at that. "How'd it go?"

"Good, it went good," he answered right away, deciding to settle himself onto the edge of his bed. "Definitely good."

He wasn't sure if she was smiling or not, but her voice held a small upturn to it, "That's great, Custiel. I'm glad."

A moment of silence cut into their conversation, the air around Custiel feeling tense. It seemed like she was acting like nothing happened. And while he wished it would be that easy, he wanted to talk this out with her. Get his chance to explain.

Custiel opened his mouth, beginning to talk, but she seemed to try saying something exactly as he did. It made for another awkward pause from both of them, a huff of a strained chuckle coming from Custiel, "Go ahead, you go first."

Michelle took a small pause before continuing, "I want to talk to ya 'bout what happened…"

The corner of Custiel's lips twitched up very slightly, "Ah, yeah, okay. So do I."

It was a bit relieving, in a sense. That she seemed to want to maybe give him a chance to talk this over with her. Even though he'd have to face the embarrassing situation again, it made him happy that she didn't completely write him off.

"Are ya busy tomorrow?" she inquired after a bit of hesitation.

Custiel shook his head even though he knew she wouldn't see it, "No, not at all. Completely free."

"Mind if I come over and we can talk it over?"

His lips grew into a small smile, "Yeah, that'd be perfect."

Her own voice seemed to hold a bit of a smile, "See ya at three?"

"See you at three," he confirmed.

After hanging up, Custiel realized for the first time in over a week, he's feeling a bit of hope creeping in. Especially after this horrid day with his father, _this_ was the better ending note that he'd wanted and needed. Removing his suit jacket and tossing it to the side, he soon found himself lying back onto his bed, more than grateful to finally be back in his own flat. His own flat that Michelle would be visiting tomorrow.

However excited he was about that detail, he found himself beginning to drift and, eventually, he passed out right there. He was much more tired than he realized, the effects of jetlag no doubt taking its effect. It was a dreamless sleep, something that was like floating through darkness, peaceful and relaxing. An experience he rarely received in that bloody hotel in France. Some parts because the beds weren't the best and others because those were the moments the problems he'd left unsolved would decide to creep into his mind.

It seemed only a few moments passed before he opened his eyes again, their depths having a distinct sting of sleep and grogginess about him as he slowly sat up. How long had he been out? After looking to his wrist watch, it looked to be just a couple hours. All he wanted to do was curl back up into his bed and fall back asleep, get all this jetlag off of him. But of course, he couldn't. He needed toiletries, a few necessities to be had if he wanted to look somewhat presentable for Michelle the next day.

So with a groan, he pushed himself up from the bed and pocketed his mobile as he did so. He had just enough money on him to buy a few simple things from the nearby Tesco, which he was thankful for being just about a block away. Wouldn't even have to catch a cab.

As he stepped outside once more, the sky was quickly darkening, the sun just barely setting and leaving the streets in an oddly soft, grey glow. He weaved past several groups of people, tourists and citizens alike. Before long he was stepping into the convenience store, heading straight to pick up a new bottle of shampoo, a toothbrush, toothpaste, and, while he was at it anyway, a pack of Jammie Dodgers. Not necessary, but he was out, so who could blame him.

Holding the items within his hands, he stepped into the queue, just a few customers ahead of him. These items in his hands now remind him of just what he lost. He had to wonder if he would ever get any of those things back, but knowing his father, the chance of that happening was very little. He supposed the only good thing about it all was he packed that stupid, brown tie he hated so much in that bag. If there was an upside to this, it was the loss of that tie. He would never miss that tie.

Moving up in the queue, just one more person in front of him, there came a sudden voice behind him. One he certainly hadn't expected but the familiarity of it rang true in his ears.

"Custiel?"

Curiously, Custiel turned to face the female voice, quite mature sounding and no different than he'd heard it last he'd seen her. His thin eyebrows shot up, his lips parted, and just a few words escaped past in a bit of a stunned question.

"_Clara?_"


	13. Moving On

**/ / First off, I'd like to apologize for how long it took me to update. Moving has really killed my inspiration for this fic (really, writing in general), but I've finally found the right inspiration and motivation again.**

**This chapter is dedicated to my amazing best friend, John, whose birthday is today! So Happy Birthday, John! You're 30 years young and you always inspire me.**

* * *

Believing you'll never see someone again can really bring you into a sort of trance. The kind that makes you forget all possibilities that you could see this one person once the last goodbye was said. That's exactly the kind of trance Custiel had been lulled into. He thought that he and Clara would never speak again, especially after the way they'd parted. There was really no reason to. But he supposed that it wasn't as if they'd spoken to each other intentionally.

What were the _odds_ of running into each other at a Tesco? He wasn't sure he could ever calculate the numbers, but it had to be quite the small chance. They'd only exchanged a few words, really. Nothing more than simple small talk, those kinds of conversations to fill the spaces where awkward silences would rather be instead. There was no promise to see one another after that. Neither of them made plans together, there was just the simple catching up of two… Acquaintances. What else could they be but that? Perhaps not even that. Just strangers after all these years.

But that wasn't something to focus on. Not right now. Instead, Custiel had to focus on Michelle's visit today. The visit that he would hope for a chance to explain himself and hopefully Michelle would listen. Even after a week, he still wasn't sure what to say other than the obvious.

'_It wasn't my fault', 'I was drugged by Tenth', 'my brother is an arse and set me up'_, and that was really it. Maybe in different variations, but all the same message kept coming across. The message that Michelle somehow believed he was just trying to frame Tenth in a bad light. Custiel supposed it made some amounts of sense and he couldn't really blame her. She didn't know Tenth like he did and his dislike for his brother was known.

He never said it made him any happier though.

His flat was still relatively clean, enough so that he didn't really bother with tidying up. He still hadn't even replaced his books from his closet onto the living room shelf. And he was intending to keep it that way. Somewhere in Custiel's mind, he knew that she probably wouldn't mind his… Particular collection of novels, but there was just something inherently embarrassing about it for him. It could very well be blamed on Tenth's own vocal judgment on him when he'd begun to get into them. Go figure. In the closet they stayed.

To pass the time, Custiel decided to do what he loved to do best: brew himself some tea and eat Jammie Dodgers. Only the sound of the telly floated around the room as Custiel sat himself onto the couch, placing his mug of tea onto the wooden table before him. He took a single jam-filled biscuit from the small plate and took a bite from the treat, chewing it over and looking to the time.

Michelle would no doubt be here soon. Custiel was sure he at least looked presentable enough. Blue long-sleeved shirt with a pair of black jeans, among the selection of clothes he didn't bring on his business trip and inevitably ended up stuck in the trunk of his father's car. He was still bummed he'd lost all those clothes and essentials, but there was so much compelling against him. He sure as hell wasn't going to call his dad after that argument.

Just as he leaned back into the cushions of the couch, Custiel heard a few small raps at his door, signaling Michelle's arrival. At least, he hoped it would be Michelle and not some unexpected visitor. That was the last thing he needed right now, especially when he was so close to making things up with his best friend.

Luckily, and to his happy relief, it was shown to be Michelle on the other side of the door. Custiel couldn't help but smile when he swung the door open. Of course she looked great as ever. Her hair was much straighter than usual, her light hair complimenting her white tank top that encompassed intricate designs near the top and fit her form just as well as her black skirt did. Michelle mirrored the small smile on Custiel's face before pointing down to her right.

"Is that yours?" Michelle asked as Custiel's eyes followed where she was pointing, genuine surprise flooding through him.

His bag! The bag he'd accidentally left in his father's trunk, the very one he was resigning to a fate of never getting back. It was just sitting there, almost like all his wishing of wanting to have it back wasn't in vain. And really, maybe it wasn't. He couldn't believe that his father would be nice enough to return it to him, especially after that. But the proof was hard to deny.

Custiel quickly looked back to Michelle, not wanting to delve into what happened the previous day, so instead conjuring up a more suitable story, "Oh, yeah, that is mine. Lost it at luggage yesterday, at the airport. Guess they found it." He huffed a bit of a chuckle, nervous, breathy. Stepping aside, he invited her in with a slight gesture, "They must've delivered it this morning 'n I was asleep."

Michelle seemed to buy it well enough as she stepped in, "Oh, well, good thing no one came along and stole it, yea?"

"Yeah, good thing," Custiel agreed as he stepped out and grabbed the bag, pulling it in before closing the door. He set it aside and looked over to Michelle, not quite sure where to go from here. He was at the very least thankful to have the topic of his bag for a starting conversation; it certainly broke the proverbial ice of what was sure to be an exhaustingly awkward situation. And he knew it would continue to be so between them until they talked things out entirely.

It felt wrong and he hated it.

"That is so like ya," Michelle commented with a carefully bubbling laugh, her attention shifting from the tea and Jammie Dodgers back to Custiel.

Custiel could feel another smile making its way onto his lips as he chuckled, slipping his hands into his pockets with a ducked head, "Yeah, 'course. You know me…"

And here was the cue for the awkward silence that Custiel feared. The barrier between this uncomfortable state and the one he was so accustomed to around her still had not broken. There was still the elephant within the room, suffocating them and neither quite approaching the subject. As Custiel looked back up, he could see Michelle wasn't being spared in the moment of stifling silence.

"You c'n sit, if y'like," Custiel offered, hoping that maybe it would be better than the two of them just standing there.

She seemed grateful for the offer, the hint of a smile tainting her lips as she placed her purse – he hadn't actually hadn't noticed the white accessory until she'd moved it off her shoulder – down on the ground before settling onto the couch.

Custiel knew it couldn't quite stop there. His eyes wondered to his cup of tea, soft wafts of steam still coming from the white porcelain. Tea. That always helped. In more ways than one.

"Would y'like some tea? Maybe?" he gave another offer, his hands coming from his pockets to fold together with one another. "I've still got enough left to make you a cuppa. Only if you'd like some, 'course…"

As Michelle leaned back into the couch, she smiled wider at him, "Yea, I'd like that. Thanks, Custiel."

Okay, things were going somewhere. This was good. This had to be good. Custiel was thankful for the almost easy atmosphere that settled as he moved a few feet over to the small kitchen, gathering an off-blue mug from a cabinet and reaching for a tea bag.

The usual act of preparing the tea left him to distracted thoughts. How was he going to approach this? Still, he had no idea what to say or even how to say it. As he determined earlier, everything seemed to have already been said over a week ago.

Had it already been over a week?

Every scenario he played out seemed to lead to the same conclusion: that Michelle wouldn't buy his story of Tenth drugging him with Viagra and leaving him to some stripper to get him off. Without much of his consent, he would add. But what good would it do? Was it too much to ask that she'd somehow changed her mind since he'd seen her? Too good of a deal to hope for Tenth screwing up and showing her the side only Custiel knew? All of that, he knew, was wishful thinking.

Prepping the cuppa took far less time than Custiel would've hoped for, not a single thing decided before he was walking back to the couch and handing her the warm beverage.

"Thank ya," Michelle said graciously, taking the cup and blowing on it lightly before taking a gentle sip.

Custiel found himself sitting with a cushion between them, the right amount of space Custiel felt was necessary. His hands came together, fiddling with one another as they usually would, being a part of his chief tension centers. It was a habit he believed formed from growing up, a very little way that he survived his father. It was a small thing, but it reminded him if all else failed, he'd have to hold onto himself, rely on himself, trust himself.

The only sound that stood out beyond the quiet chatter of the television was the subsequent sigh from Michelle's lips. A sound that Custiel knew was the cue. There was no more putting it off.

"I know what it looked like in that picture…" Custiel started, perhaps even sounding confident despite the fact that he very much wasn't on the inside. He kept his gaze studying the edges of the wooden coffee table. His knee began to lightly twitch up, down, up, down. "But there's much more to what it seems."

For a second, in the silence that followed, Custiel wondered if she even heard him. But of course she did. She was simply processing it, her eyebrows furrowing to show the processes of her complicated thoughts, "Are ya really still goin' to blame Tenth?"

So she hadn't let go of that idea he was entirely innocent in this. He shouldn't have been surprised. But maybe it was just his hopes being crushed, not necessarily surprised.

Custiel finally looked over, his eyes meeting her face that was already turned toward him, "D'you honestly think I'd do something like _that?_"

Michelle looked away, sipping her tea before saying coldly, "Well, I _thought_ ya'd never do that. Past tense. But after seein' that picture…"

"Why're you believing Tenth over me, your best friend since we were _kids._" His tone was desperate, heavy, truly asking and wondering.

She shook her head, thinly straight locks swishing about her face carefully, "I just can't see Tenth doin' anythin' like that."

Sticking to the same argument as last time. Well, so would he.

"Michelle, you really don't know him," Custiel went on, feeling his tone being fueled with the memories of a bitter past. "He used to play pranks on me all the time when we were younger, 'n this is no different. Jus'… On a whole new level."

Finally, she looked back to him after a moment of consideration, "I trust my judgment on this, Custiel… Maybe he was like that when ya were young, but people grow up. People change."

There came a sigh, his hand coming up to rub at his features as he looked away. He knew this angle wouldn't work, yet he just had to try it anyway. So much for that. "What d'you want out of this?"

That got a pause out of her. One that caused him to turn his gaze back to her once more, her own now looking away as she seemed to think this over. She seemed conflicted, her lips pressed together, eyes wandering from down to up.

Taking a barely noticeable breath, she turned back to him, "I don't like us fightin'… I don't like the silence between us."

It wasn't quite what he was expecting. It took a bit of a blow at him, knocking him a few feet deeper back into the reality of it all. There had been so much silence between them. The argument last time definitely something he hated too. He didn't like it either. And he was about to agree, to say that he didn't like it either, but she beat him to it.

"I'm not sure what I want," Michelle admitted sullenly with a shrug, the motion making her seem so much older than she was, her blue hues shifting down before lifting back up. "I guess I just want us to get past this."

Her honesty was welcome, bringing another inch closer to resolving this… Whatever it was between them. But Custiel knew what it would take to break through that barrier entirely, "So you want an apology."

The inner struggle was evident from her silence, her words holding that struggle, almost as if she were uncertain, "I suppose…"

"You want me to apologize for something that I had no control over? That I was both pissed 'n drugged 'n I've got to apologize for that?"

Custiel's tone, although a bit harsh, didn't deter her, "How could ya have known ya were drugged at all?"

"I jus' knew. Because I'd never really… _Reacted_ like that before," Custiel painfully bit out, the natural urge for a blush threatening his at his face. He fought it, but looked away. "Tenth even told me he spiked my drink before that stripper…"

He couldn't believe he was still succeeding in fighting the blush at this point. He went on, trying to dispel the embarrassment from the air, "But I guess you're not gonna buy that story no matter how many times I tell you."

Custiel didn't know what Michelle thought of his words now. She made no attempt to speak then and he didn't look over to her, still trying to not allow his damned blush to seep through. He hated how easy it was for him to blush.

He sighed and finally turned his attention back to her, "You want me to apologize? Fine. I'm sorry. M'not sure what I'm sorry for, but I'm sorry."

Was this him giving in? Accepting the entire blame? It's not like he hadn't done it a million times before. He wasn't a stranger to being the blamed victim. Then again, maybe it was a bit his fault. His fault for ever trusting his brother with a single thing, even simply taking a drink from him.

"Why didn't ya just tell me?" Michelle asked, her voice sounding concerned although Custiel wasn't sure if he was just mistaking it for something else.

Custiel blinked once, twice, "What?"

"Ya could've just told me instead of lettin' me find out through those pictures…"

"You weren't 'sposed to find out." Custiel paused imitating his brother's voice best he could, "'What happens at a stag, stays at a stag.'" He looked away, shaking his head and speaking quietly, almost as if he were defeated, tired from the struggle, "That's what Tenth told me. He didn't exactly uphold that. Even took bloody pictures. 'N if you can't see that he set it up to get at me to, I dunno.. Turn you against me, then I don't know how you see it."

The words left his lips painfully, feeling like a statement he's said a million times and his mouth grew weary of forming them again and again. It left him with a strange emptiness, Michelle's ensuing quietness only enforcing that. Perhaps this was him giving in and accepting it. That there was really no way out of this other than to take whatever hits were thrown and move on. Perhaps it was better that way. Sometimes giving up is the hardest part that can bring the easiest defeat.

Finally, Michelle spoke up, her voice seeming to no longer be tethered to their conversation at hand, but instead miles away, "Remember that one day we found our teacher's stash of candy and we took it for ourselves?"

The question felt… Oddly welcome. Like a calm tide after a terrible storm. It caused Custiel to look back to her, hazel depths watching her as she recounted the story he knew by heart with a small smile on her lips, "We promised not to tell anyone that we took it and we ended up gettin' so sick after eatin' it together."

There really was no stopping the smile that fought its way to his face. Every detail of that day never seemed to be lost on him, despite it being well over ten years. The good memories always outweighed the bad.

"Yeah," Custiel agreed with a small nod. "You vowed never to eat chocolate again."

A light giggle fell from Michelle's lips as she shook her head, looking up to the ceiling, "Glad I didn't stick to that vow."

The particular memory floated through Custiel's mind then, threatening to overthrow the entirety of this bloody situation. It eased the tense atmosphere, bringing them back to an earlier time when they didn't have to worry about anything like this. Only chocolate. Only child secrets. Could they go back to that?

"Michelle," Custiel began quietly, Michelle finally meeting his careful gaze with her own curious one. "D'you hate me?"

His question spurred a reaction of surprise, causing her to shaking her head with raised eyebrows, blinking eyes, "No, I could never hate ya, Custiel. We're friends. Best friends."

Somehow, it was a relief to hear that. While he'd spent so much time thinking that maybe she wouldn't want to be his friend anymore, she more than likely never considered such a thing. Judging by her reaction, it was genuine. She _hadn't_ thought of that being an option. It was something startling to him that he _ever_ considered it himself. How could he have?

"Can we jus'… Forget it 'n move on?" Custiel pleaded slowly.

"I'd like to, but…"

A slight deflation was felt at those words, but he pressed, "But what?"

Michelle shook her head, "But… Nothin'."

Giving a sigh, Custiel readjusted his body to face her more properly, expression easily readable as determined and honest, "You know I regret it, right?"

In reaction, her body seems to tilt slightly closer, "Ya do?"

"'Course I regret it. I'd be better off had it not happened. At all." His head leaned forward, almost as if to emphasize his point, "But it did, 'n I can't change that it did. But now I jus' want to move on from it."

Gazes were traded in the silence that followed Custiel's words, each syllable soaking slowly into their respective thoughts. It was a stillness that invaded even the telly, its sounds seeming to become mute between them. They were grounded in one another, finding a foundation from the other that they couldn't have alone.

"Okay," Michelle finally spoke, the word soft and accompanying a gentle nod. "Okay. We can move on."

Custiel was expecting a different sort of victory. One that included finally ousting Tenth's true self, showing Michelle just what he saw. But maybe he'd never have that kind of victory. He supposed, for now, he could settle with this one little victory. A victory that kept her in his life was more than enough.

His smile slowly returned, "We'll move on jus' like you moved on from that vow to never eat chocolate again."

"Hey," she lightly chastised with a growing smile of her own. "That vow didn't count."

"Obviously, 'cause that was the week before the chocolate egg," Custiel threw back with a small laugh. A laugh. It felt freeing.

She looked mock offended, playfully so, "Ya can't blame me, that was an amazin' egg!"

Another laugh. Shared. Laughter in harmony, soft and careful, treading on a bridge newly repaired, testing the weight and seeing it held. It was a sense of ease. They seemed to have worked things out, despite knowing Michelle still didn't take his word for what happened. But their friendship was so much more important than that. Details were miniscule comparing to everything they'd ever been through now.

Custiel reached forward, taking hold of his nearly forgotten cup of tea, taking note that sometime during the conversation, Michelle had set hers down. He took a sip before asking, "What're you doing for the rest of the day?"

Michelle just shrugged, the motion so much more clear and light than it had been earlier, "Nothin' really. I didn't plan anythin' except comin' here. Why?"

She was looking to him expectantly, almost like she was wanting a specific answer. Custiel could only hope the one he gave was the one she wanted, "Well, humor me."

Taking one last sip of his tea, he set it back on the table and stood, stepping over to his small television stand and reaching beneath and behind it. It didn't take him long to grab hold of several plastic cases, just the size of DVDs with the clear depiction of Harry Potter characters on each cover.

Custiel turned back to face Michelle, holding up the cases with a smile tainting his lips, "Harry Potter marathon. What d'you say?"

That lit up something within Michelle. A large smile ignited onto her features, her expression quickly scrunching up into something playful, "I'm frankly insulted ya didn't ask sooner."

Custiel had no hope of stopping the laugh that burst from his lungs, Michelle even giggling along. He wasted no more time in popping open the first case, taking to the task of turning on his DVD player and sliding the disk within. Easiness pervaded every little thing that followed from that moment.

Sipping their tea, they sat together, no longer separated from that single couch cushion but instead side by side, watching the film complacently. Soon enough, when it came time, the subject of what house they would be sorted into came around, lighting up the conversation with their respective choices. Michelle was Gryffindor, something Custiel wasn't surprised at. Hell, he even mentally guessed it before she told him. He had to wonder if she guessed he was Hufflepuff before he even said anything. He wouldn't be surprised.

Some laughs were had throughout the first film, musings of how young the main characters looked. How undamaged they were and how some parts differed from the books. Of course they'd both read all the books.

Just as the first film finished, Custiel offered to make them something to eat, much to Michelle's delight. And as a way to try and one up his brother, Custiel made pasta. Simple spaghetti, nothing as fancy as what Tenth made, but he knew Michelle would like it. And like it she did. He even got a compliment out of her for how well he made it.

Another round of tea was in order as they started the second film, conversation floating to some random trivia about the movie itself. It reminded Custiel of the time Tenth had done this throughout the Monty Python film back at Michelle's flat, only then it seemed so much more grating than when he and Michelle were doing it by themselves. Then again, anything without Tenth seemed less grating. Custiel supposed it would just always be like that.

As the third film finally started, stories of how they started reading Harry Potter began to come about, each of their favorites of everything, and even recalling some of their most fond memories about the books. By now, it was beginning to grow darker outside, but it didn't seem to make a difference. They continued to watch, completely content on the couch, intermittently sipping tea, making conversation, laughing, and making up for all the silence they'd shared in the extended week.

It was more than Custiel could ever ask for and it was perfect.

Halfway through the third film, Custiel suddenly felt a growing weight on his left shoulder. It was almost a bit startling, as they'd both grown quiet several minutes earlier, content to just watching the movie in silence. Turning his head, Custiel caught a glimpse of just what the sudden weight was. He wasn't sure he was prepared for what he saw.

Michelle had passed out, her eyes closed, breathing even and gentle, and her body was leaning against Custiel's. Her head precariously rested on his shoulder, making him afraid to move suddenly, lest he wake her from her seemingly peaceful slumber. He could feel another damned blush making its way along his cheeks. For once, he didn't fight it as hard as he had earlier, knowing Michelle was asleep and wouldn't see it anyway.

Just her warmth and presence against him made him smile, her face, from what he could see, was smooth and free of any and all thoughts. Almost as though she'd opened them all up and had nothing else left to worry about. There was something so… Her as she slept. Everything seemed to come to the surface, her gentleness, her compassion, her understanding, all of it could be conveyed right now on her expression. It was mesmerizing and he couldn't look away from a few, long moments.

He could feel himself relaxing against her, becoming used to her body leaned against his. He even started to lean into her, being mindful not to break this calm trance that they both seemed to be lulled into. He didn't want to wake her, didn't want to break that illusion of knowing she had not a problem on her mind.

How long would it be before this would be taken away? Now it was five months. Five months and she would be gone again. Already nearly a month had passed and it wasn't enough. It _wouldn't_ be enough.

Slowly, Custiel could feel the worrisome thoughts leaving him, being replaced by his own sleepy state. Things were okay now. Before, it seemed so entirely hopeless, mainly because he feared Michelle wouldn't want to speak to him again. But that didn't happen. It couldn't happen. As always, just her presence seemed to make all problems disappear.

It wasn't long before he found himself drifting, Michelle's own sleep rubbing off onto him. And he let it. Because it was the first time he'd fallen asleep in the past week with anything close to a smile on his lips.


End file.
